Reunions and Manipulations
by VelvetyNightSky
Summary: AU after POA: James & Lily Potter, Regulus Black, and Frank & Alice Longbottom have all come back to life via ancient magic evoked by the mysterious GFW to save lives and change the future. Warnings: Language, Dursley!Abuse, Manipulative!Dumbledore. On indefinite hiatus.
1. Prologue

.

**REUNIONS AND MANIPULATIONS**

**ARC ONE:**

**NEVER**

_Summary_: The mysterious GFW, whose goal is to change the future, brings James and Lily Potter, Frank and Alice Longbottom, and Regulus Black back from the dead to help destroy Voldemort and bring down Dumbledore's manipulations and tyranny. GFW gathers Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, and Augusta Longbottom to all play their part. The Marauder's Pack lurks in the darkness bringing down their foes, and giving them all another chance at life. New friendships are formed and new enemies are made as the Pack battles their way through the manipulations and traps both Dumbledore and Voldemort set using the Triwizard Tournament.

_Format_: First arc; angst and drama. Second arc; humor and friendship. Third arc; adventure, friendship, and drama.

_Warnings_: Dursley abuse, manipulative Dumbledore, Gray main characters, some graphic violence.

_Pairings_: Lily/James, Frank/Alice, Regulus Black/Emmeline Vance.

_Rating_: T for suggestive language, bad language, abuse, and mildly graphic fight scenes/gore.

Let the fic commence!

(Also, on INDEFINITE HIATUS)

* * *

><p><em>Prologue<em>

_November 2nd, 1981:_

_Prison Fortress of Azkaban, Block 46, Cell 3B_

There was nothing.

Nothing, nothing, nothing. His mind was as black as his name and dark and empty as his former home.

_Which one? _Sirius pondered. _Grimmauld is certainly a freezing hell on earth, and even Hogwarts has its bad memories…and _his _home…_

A high, maniacal laugh shattered the cold air. The sound echoed and bounced off of the grimy cinderblock and down through the filthy corridor and into the cells of the other inmates.

_…well, it's not exactly there anymore, is it?_

Another laugh rent the air, and several of the _oh-so-terrifying _Death Eaters screamed. Bellatrix Lestrange's cackles mixed with her own shrieks.

_All because of that rat…all because of me…all because of that rat…all because of me…_

A strangled cry and laugh rose from his throat andt tears he didn't allow to fall froze in his eyes. The Death Eaters screamed in unison.

"It's him," one whimpered. "The Grim. It's him. Where are they? Where are the others? Mother…Mother, please help me…Mother…"

Sirius wheezed, trying to reclaim his breath. He couldn't smother it; the demented sound clawing, ripping, _tearing,_ at his throat, and gave up. He let out another crazed bark of laughter.

_Oh, yes. The Grim, they call me. I'd arrive on the scene, and everyone would flee. Everyone _knew _that I was death and destruction incarnate. Harbinger of hell…no, hell for them was _us, _wasn't it? The Marauders. Three faithful Marauders, that is. No one would dare touch our pack…if they did, there would be hell to pay, wouldn't there?_

The gleeful chuckle was marred by Sirius's gouging grimace and face set with the deep, ugly lines of a tired soldier. Death Eaters whimpered and muttered, shaking and screaming on their straw pallets.

_…but that didn't save James, did it?_

And his twisted laugh became a sob.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or JKR's works.

**TIMELINE:**

In _CANNON_, Harry wakes up with his scar hurting on _Saturday, August 20th, 1994_ and they come to get him _that day_ for the World Cup, which is on _Monday, August 22nd, 1994_**. **In **MY** fanfic, Harry wakes up with his scar hurting on _Saturday, August 20th, 1994_, but the Weasleys come to get him on **Friday, August 25th, 1994,** for the Cup, on **Monday,** **August 28th, 1994.**


	2. Three's a Magic Number

_Chapter One_

_A Magic Number_

_Saturday, August 20th, 1994:_

_Remus Lupin's Apartment_

The crescent moon hung low in the sky.

It was barely visible through the window of the worn, tiny kitchen. A single candle sat flickering on the scrubbed wooden table, and one of the two occupants stared at the flame as it threw off shadows onto the walls.

"My fault."

One of the occupants, the one who had spoken, was slumped over the table and clutching a bottle of firewhiskey. His matted, black hair hung lankly around his gaunt face, which was stretched tight and thin across aristocratic features that only helped belie the image of a stark-raving madman. His grey eyes - currently a dark, smoke-like color - burned with rage and agony under something dangerously like insanity.

But the way he held himself told he was much worse than a madman.

He was a broken man.

_Not entirely, _mused the other across the table. He, like the other man, was fairly young. Despite the obvious lack of age, a terrible wisdom - the sort carved out of a person from years of hell - was thick on both their faces. He had amber eyes and flaxen, golden hair that shone slightly in the candle light. It cast dark shadows that mixed with the deep groves of scars on his face. He held a newspaper in his hands that he was staring attentively at, but not reading. _Chipped, worn, and shattered…but not broken._

"What do you mean, Sirius?"

Sirius glared balefully across the table. "You _know _what I'm talking about, Remus. I as good as killed them. I _did _kill them."

Remus didn't answer. He did know what Sirius was talking about. Regulus, James and Lily, and Alice and Frank. They fell one after another like dominoes. A twisted puppet show with Voldemort holding all the strings.

_But it's not _Voldemort, _is it? _whispered the annoying little voice in the corner of his brain that always spoke up at times where he doubted Dumbledore. Remus gave an irritated huff and brushed the voice away. The little niggle was always in the back of his mind. It had been there even before that Halloween.

Remus knew that Sirius had never truly grieved. Being in Azkaban - near those thrice-damned dementors - only stacked up more and more guilt on him. Sometimes, Remus had the sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore just left Sirius in that cursed hellhole, until he either grew up or went insane…

_No, _Remus told himself firmly. _Dumbledore's a good man - a great man! He would never do something like that. Think of all he did for you!_

"They're gone," Remus said, folding his newspaper and looking Sirius in the eye. "It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is!" Sirius hissed back. "Think of all the lives I've damned, Remus! Reggie! James! Lily! Harry!" He choked over the last one, and a tear slid down his face. Sirius buried his head in his hands.

"If I had one wish in the world, it would be for Harry. He knows what parents are, but not _his _parents are. D'you—d'you think he even knows that they love him?" Sirius asked, lifting his head up.

Remus felt like someone had stabbed a rusty knife in his heart. He swallowed, "I don't know."

Sirius's head fell with a dull _thump _on to the table. "He's starting his fourth year this year. James never got to see him play Quidditch, or talk about their favorite teams. Lily never got to see his report card, or send him sweets from home. For Merlin's sake, they never got to _meet _him! Harry never got to open Christmas presents with his parents, or let them tell him funny stories. For all purposes, he's unwanted!"

Sirius winced - _unwanted. _It reminded him of his own home life. His mother, the demon of his nightmares, had abandoned him. Had he done the same to Regulus when he ran away? Would he have been able to convince his bratty little brother - who always craved their parents' affection - that their family was wrong? No. Reggie was dead, and it was his fault. He should've been there to take Regulus aside and tell what would _really _happen when was made a Death Eater.

Alice and Frank - damned to a life of insanity - _he _should have been there to fight his mad cousins. In some ways, his honorary nephew, Neville, had an even worse fate then Harry. Know your parents, but they don't know you.

Remus sat, gaping, when Sirius abruptly stood up.

"I'm going to bed, Moony," he turned to go to his bedroom, but spun around suddenly.

"Moony."

"Yes, Paddy?"

"When you get a family—shut up, don't deny it, you will get a family!—I want you to hold on to it with everything you've got. Because once they're gone, they're gone forever."

Remus refused to believe that. "I'm a—"

"NO! That family's going to love you whether you're a Black, or a werewolf, or whether you play pranks, or whether you constantly read, or whether you have a Death Eater brother or whether you are poor."

Sirius banged his fists on the table. "I can't do this, Remus. I can't take care of Harry, I can't convince you you're as human as everyone else, I can't get over James and Lily and Reggie and Alice and Frank, I can't do _anything_!"

Sirius stormed away into his bedroom, flinging open the door so hard it bounced off the wall and left it wide open.

Remus looked at Sirius's figure, collapsing on the bed, and asked, "What do you need, Sirius?"

Sirius's answer was simple.

"James."

* * *

><p>Hundreds of miles away, a rat was scurrying along the road. He could feel it. For the first time in fourteen years, he could feel the presence of his master. Pettigrew scurried off the road, into the gutter and towards the woods that lined both. His eyesight was poor, but that didn't matter. His Dark Mark guided the way through the dense trees and the dark, cloudy night.<p>

A shiver of fear ran through him. Pettigrew wasn't doing this out of loyalty or even fear for the Dark Lord. He was doing it out of fear for his former friends.

Pettigrew had made a mistake in joining the Dark Lord. His offers were just so _tempting - _glory, power, and most of all…recognition. _That _was something he never had, especially when it came to being with his friends. For at least six years, Peter knew they had been genuine friends. But he could only take so much of being the scapegoat and the ego punching bag before it grated on his nerves.

When he had been branded with the Dark Mark, Pettigrew had had one thought.

_Never again._

Pettigrew wasn't stupid enough to believe the Dark Lord would reward him anymore. Not only did he only have selfish reasons for returning, but he was on the hit list of two Heirs of the Twelve Great Wizarding Families. Originally, Pettigrew hadn't thought much of it - Sirius was very vocal against his relatives; and, for someone so arrogant, James was surprisingly modest when it came to his family.

But now…

Pettigrew was distracted from his fear as he caught sight of a humanoid baby-looking thing curled at the base of a tree. It had milky, filmy red eyes and pure white skin that was tinged green and had odd hairs stuck to it.

The Dark Mark drenched his arm in pain. Pettigrew shifted back to his human form and took off his outer robe.

"Master…" he stuttered, bowing low. "I, your most faithful servant, have come for you…" Shuffling closer, he wrapped the robe around the hissing creature, and his finger brushed a bit of uncovered skin.

In that second, everything changed.

A shock of pure energy burst into the sky. It arched like lightening shooting the wrong way, and lit up the night sky of Albania with a blast of white light. As it did, eerie words echoed out; it was a male voice, grim and one that might have been easy to laugh years ago.

_"The Traitor returns to the One-Who-Holds-the-Betrayal…for his Dishonor and Disloyalty let the One-Who-Was-Hurt-The-Most by him…let his Loved Ones return…let them Breathe against…Taste again…Hear again…See again…Touch again…let them Live again…let them Return from their Graves…to Live again…"_

Pettigrew jerked up, looking around wildly, but a hissed, "_Down, _Wormtail," and a bright shock of pain brought him out of his curiosity.

Consequently, he ignored the trails of light arching from Albania to England.

In an isolated graveyard in Godric's Hollow, dust was blowing from a family mausoleum and down the streets to an abandoned cottage. Behind the front door, the dust twirled and billowed into a human shape. The same happened upstairs, on the landing, in front of a decimated nursery.

A hundred miles away in a cave, in a lake, a body was pushed from the water. It fell on the slimy, rocky shore, gasping for breath and spitting out water.

Miles from there, in a hospital bed, behind flowery curtains, two people woke with a start into a clear state.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or JKR's works.


	3. Harry!

_Chapter Two_

_ Harry!_

James Potter took a shuddering breath. Everything hurt, all over. His glasses were crooked on the bridge of his nose, and his eyesight was fuzzy. He was on the ground; lying where he had waited for Voldemort…Voldemort…no, no! _Peter_…his teeth ground together. How could he do this? Sell us to Voldemort, his friends! _Voldemort_…

"_Go! Lily, go! Take Harry and run, I'll hold him off! Go!"_

_ Just then, there was the creak of the hinges and a black-cloaked figure stepped into the threshold. One thought crossed his mind._

_It was Peter. Peter was the spy._

_ "Well, well Mr. Potter…so brave you have been, but I do have a job to attend to," Voldemort said, his lipless mouth unfurling into an unmistakable smile._

_ "Leave my family alone!" James roared. "Expelliarmus!" _

_ "Avada Kedavra!" _

_Lily…Harry…_

_There was a blinding flash of green light, and then blackness…_

James stood up among the ruins of this house. With a lurch, he saw the remnants of a fireplace…exactly where his fireplace had been. He stared, wide-eyed with grief, looking around the ruins of the house—everything was burnt and charred. Where there used to be stairs to the second story, there was only a cavernous, charred hole opening to the heavens…but that meant…

"NO!" _Lily, my dear sweet Lily-flower…Harry, my boy, my sweet, innocent, only son…gone, all gone…_

James sat down in the ruins of the old house, and put his head in his hands. Tears made their way down his face, "My boy, Voldemort you sick bastard, what did you do with my son? My dear wife…Voldemort, you'll pay for this…" he muttered, his hands pressed to his face. He was suddenly jarred from his thoughts.

"HARRY!_ No, _no! _James__! _NO!" it was a woman's scream—it was _Lily's _scream.

"Lily?" James shot to his feet, frantically looking around. He saw, at the top of the mutilated stairs, before they broke off, was a woman with bright red hair that reached her waist, in bright green robes, sobbing.

He scrambled up the stairs to meet her. "LILY!"

She turned around, "_James?_"

He nodded dimly, grabbing her and taking her into his arms, sobbing unashamedly on her shoulder.

"James," she choked out. Lily buried her head in James' shoulder; the loss of her beautiful baby boy was ripping her heart in two. Her innocent baby boy was dead. She felt her anger rise at Voldemort, at Peter, especially Peter, selling her family out like that…

"My fault, Lily, all my fault, I shouldn't have trusted Peter, I should have taken Voldemort when I had the chance…"

Lily shook her head silently, tears streaming down her face. "Shh, shh don't cry, it's my fault, I should've left when I had the chance…"

Tears were streaming down James' nose as Lily cupped a hand around his cheek. He grabbed her hand, wanting to scream _Get away from me! It's my fault, all my fault! Kill me, hate me, yell, something, don't just _stand _there! _

"Come on," he said, feeling a black hole in his chest where his baby boy should've been. "Let's go see Remus, or maybe Sirius. We can't just stand here."

Lily patted herself, feeling her wand in her pocket. She took James' hand in one, and her wand in the other. Lying on the couch, which was covered in dust, was James' wand.

"Where do you think we should go?" he asked Lily quietly.

"Remus' house," she responded. They were both still crying, feeling the loss of their only son. "He's more likely to be home."

A message passed between them:

If another one of their friends was dead, they couldn't take it.

* * *

><p>Sirius woke the next morning to a delicate <em>tap, tap, tap<em> on the window. He made his way over, feeling the joy in his heart as he recognized his godson's snowy owl, Hedwig. He untied the message from her leg and gave her cup of water, which gulped down thankfully, waiting for a reply from Sirius.

_Dear Sirius,_

_Thanks for your last letter. The bird was enormous; it could hardly get through my window._

_Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet isn't going to well. My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him they'd have to cut his pocket money if he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out of the window. That's a sort of computer you can play games on. Bit stupid really, now he hasn't even got _Mega-Mutilation Part Three _to take his mind off things. _

_I'm okay, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you'll turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to._

_A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. The last was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt afterward?_

_I'll send this with Hedwig when she gets back; she's off hunting at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me._

_Harry_

_P.S. If you want to contact me, I'll be at my friend Ron Weasley's for the rest of the summer. His dad's got us tickets to the Quidditch World Cup!_

Sirius snorted. Ah, just like his good old dad…_Come on Padfoot, I don't care what your mum says; you have to come to the Cup with us!_ Sirius was willing to bet that his relatives didn't know he was going to leave until he was gone.

Sirius winced, thinking about how if James and Lily were still alive he would be going to the game with him. That got him thinking—what did he think on Halloween? About his parents' demise? Or did he not even truly know the date?

Pulling out a sheet of parchment from Remus' desk, he wrote,

_Dear Harry,_

_I already up north, don't think you can fool me. Dumbledore's reading the signs even if no one else is. Your scar hurting is not the only strange thing that's been occurring. _

_Have fun at the World Cup. The last time the Cup was hosted me, Moony, and your dear old dad were sitting in the stands. Your dad actually broke into my house because my lovely mum wouldn't let me go. Your dad said something along the lines of "Sirius Orion Black if you don't find someway to get your ass over to my house for Cup I'm coming to get you anyway!" Anyway, have fun—but I have to ask you something._

_What do you think about on Halloween?_

_That was the night your parents died, and although it is a personal question I thought it would be nice to get it off your chest, and if you want to talk about James and Lily._

_Sirius_

He gave it to Hedwig, who was tapping her claw impatiently. Sirius chuckled. Hedwig had as much of a personality as Midnight did, James' old snowy owl ("Hey, I've got an idea! We'll make an unoriginal name original by using it in a completely opposite way!"…"You're insane, Prongs." "Thanks, Paddy!").

As Sirius watched Hedwig fly back to her master, he couldn't help but feel something was about to change.

* * *

><p>Regulus gasped for air, breathing in only muggy and damp. He was lying on a slippery, rock-like surface, with the jagged edges cutting his back. He tried to remember…there was Kreacher, and the locket…Oh, no! The locket! Did Kreacher get it? He had to! Kreacher couldn't ignore an order…the last thing he remembered—the potion. Regulus had wanted water, and the lake-he shivered, from cold or memories, he didn't know—the bodies in the lake had dragged him under…it didn't matter now, he just had to get out of this cave…summoning the last of his remaining strength, he pushed open the entrance and breathed in the cool, salty sea air for the first time in thirteen years.<p> 


	4. Prongs

_Chapter Three_

_Prongs _

As James picked his wand up, both he and Lily turned on their heels and they felt the compression and spinning of Apparation. With a small _pop! _They appeared right outside of an apartment door, worn and beaten down.

Lily, who still had tears streaming down her face and seemed to be in denial, choked out, "Should—should we knock?"

James felt even more tears threaten to overcome him—if Remus was gone…no, he couldn't think about that. He knocked three times and, pausing, added forth. The Marauder knock. He gripped her hand, waiting to see what would meet them.

* * *

><p>Whatever Sirius was expecting, it wasn't this.<p>

After he finished his letter to Hedwig, he, tentatively, it seemed, he heard a:

_Knock-ka-knock-ka-knock._

_Knock._

Sirius froze. That was the Marauder knock. Something James did, so you could tell the difference between teachers (who knocked three times) and Marauders. But Moony was in the back room, and he hadn't heard him Apparate out, and Wormtail wouldn't be stupid enough to come here, and Prongs was—_no, don't think about it. _Just a coincidence, Sirius reassured himself. Tons of people knocked like that. Heck, it probably was just the milkman.

Rubbing his eyes and cursing himself at his freeze, he opened the door.

Whatever Sirius was expecting, it wasn't this.

Standing in front of him were James and Lily Potter, alive and well, their robes torn to shreds and their faces glistening with tears. Sirius shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Some sort of after-effect of Azkaban, he supposed, or he was finally going insane. But, sure enough, after he opened his eyes again, the Potters were standing there clear as day.

No, that couldn't be true. James was _dead. _And it was _his _fault. This was obviously some half-brained Death Eater scheme cooked up by Wormtail to play with his affections. No doubt the James-and-Lily-look-alikes would bring him to Voldemort to be killed the second he let them in or whatever.

"Padfoot?" the James-look-alike asked.

Sirius growled. _How dare _he call him that! Anger rushed through his veins and red clouded his vision. He drew his wand (_barrowed_ wand from Grimmauld Place, whatever) and pointed it at 'James'' neck, slamming him into the wall behind.

"I don't care whatever sick evil bastard you work for Wormtail, but this just cruel!" his hand curled around 'James' neck.

"What do you mean?" 'James' rasped. "I'm James, your best friend! Your brother in everything but blood!"

"James Potter has been dead for thirteen years!" shouted Sirius. "I don't care how much you make him look like James Potter, Wormtail, but he isn't and you can't fool me! I won't believe you, not anymore!"

"You don't believe me," he wretched, clawing at the hand. "But—believe—Prongs!"

Sirius snorted and loosened his grip a little bit—surely even Peter wasn't this stupid. It was impossible to fake an animagus form—it was completely personal and unique to the person who it was, just like conjuring a patronus.

"Put me down," he insisted, "and I'll prove you wrong."

Sirius slowly let him down and put his hand out for his wand. 'James' fished robes and handed him the wand. With a shock and a growl, Sirius recognized this as _James' real wand_. So the rat had taken up grave robbing? But he looked at 'James' in the face, but there was no face anymore, there was no human, there was only…

_Prongs._

* * *

><p>"Moony! MOOONY! HERE! <em>Now!<em>"

Remus woke with a start in his bedroom. It was morning, but still the sun barely cut through the trees…what on earth was Sirius doing up this early? It was probably important, he reasoned, as he grabbed his wand and headed to the front room, where Sirius was standing with…a woman and a deer.

Thinking that this must be completely and utterly a dream, or he was going insane, he came up beside Sirius and gasped. It wasn't just any woman, this woman had brilliant green eyes and fiery red hair, tears streaming out of her eyes, and robes torn to shreds. And the deer was a magnificent stag, with bright hazel eyes and white spots on the belly.

He rubbed his eyes, once, twice, three times; pinched himself a couple more times, but…they were still there.

"Prongs?" he asked hoarsely. "Lily? You're alive?"

But he didn't even need to ask that question, seeing Sirius' completely and utterly blissful expression, or the fact they had the same wands, or that Lily had her head to the side, like she always did when she was crying, or that James (who had changed back) had his glasses crooked like he always did—a trait James passed on to Harry…

Sirius and Remus grabbed them both, sobbing as they wrapped them both in huge hugs, pulling them inside the flat. After thirty minutes of unrelenting sobbing and hugging, everyone got settled on the couches, Remus and Sirius unwilling to stop looking at their formerly dead friends.

Remus and Sirius both felt their eyes water, so much happiness and joy seeing the two there, feeling their hearts swell with happiness and joy like they never had since that fateful night thirteen years ago…oh, Harry would be so happy, a real family at last; Moony and Padfoot both had their real family returned to them, oh, how happy they were, the excitement barely contained as they looked upon those who passed…

"Prongs! Lily! Merlin, this is amazing! You…Harry…Merlin, Harry will be so excited! He'll have a real family again…Merlin, you're back you're actually _back_! From the dead, no less! Oh, Harry, oh Harry we'll have to tell him right away…" Sirius blabbered on while James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius sat at the kitchen table, each clutching a cup of tea made by Remus' trembling hands; who was pale but grinning like a little kid on Christmas day.

James felt his face harden and chest tighten while he gripped Lily's hand. She stifled a sob and hid her face in her hands.

"Padfoot," _Really? _James wondered. _How does he not know this? _"Harry is dead." He managed to force the words out, but it still came out a rasp. He couldn't bear to think…finally, he gave into what he had wanted to ever since he saw his friends-their euphoria may still be going, but after James saw both Remus and Sirius, alive and well, he sank back into the depths of his mind, wandering through memory after memory of his precious Fawn…finally, with gasp, he let out the tears and heartache and pain he had been holding in. He knew, knew in his heart his fawn was beyond his reach.

"He's gone, Padfoot!" James sobbed, burying his head in his arms, stacked on top of the table, "My boy, my fawn, he's gone! It's my fault, all my fault, I swore I protect him, I swore I wouldn't let anything happen to him…Fawn, Fawn he's gone…he's gone, it's all my fault…"

"James…" Sirius' voice cut through the air, he sounded very hesitant, for some reason-James supposed it was that he was dredging up bad memories.

James hesitantly looked up at Sirius, only to find he and Remus wearing identical, unreadable expressions. They exchanged glances, and Remus nodded, just barely visible. Then Sirius said something that hurt worse then the knowledge of his baby boy's death.

"James, Harry's alive."

James glared at his best friend, his brother in all but blood. Why on earth was he doing this? Why would he tell such lies? _Maybe…_thought the small portion of his brain that was in denial. _NO, _James smashed that hope right then and there. He saw the house. It couldn't be true; it _wasn't _true.

"He's gone, Sirius!" Lily snapped, more tears streaming down her face.

"No, he's—" Sirius tried.

"SHUT UP, SIRIUS!" James yelled, standing up. "Our son is gone! Do you hear me?_ Gone! _Why are you doing this? WHAT DO YOU WANT? _He is _GONE!Harry is_ GONE! _DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"I swear, I'm telling the truth! I swear, I'm—" It was too late. Sirius backed up. Fury and anger were boiling inside of James; his insides consumed with grief—the boy, his son, who he loved more than even Lily was gone forever. James couldn't bear to say it one more time, he couldn't figure out why Sirius was doing this, and he lifted his wand, preparing to curse him, when Sirius shoved something in his face.

James snatched the paper, which Sirius had shoved in his face, out of the air. He crumpled it into his fist and shoved Sirius into the corner, grabbed at his friends' throat, completely consumed by errant grief and rage when—

"Read—it—" Sirius gasped. "Read—it—_please—_"

The pleading in Sirius' voice made James halt. Still furious, but anger abated with curiosity, he uncrumpled the paper. It was a letter, and James started read:

_Dear Sirius,_

_Thanks for your last letter. The bird was enormous; it could hardly get through my window._

_Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet isn't going to well. _

James frowned, 'Dudley' sounded vaguely familiar, but he didn't know where to place it…

_My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him they'd have to cut his pocket money if he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out of the window. That's a sort of computer you can play games on. Bit stupid really, now he hasn't even got _Mega-Mutilation Part Three _to take his mind off things. _

_I'm okay, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you'll turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to._

James almost dropped the letter in utter shock…it couldn't be, it couldn't…'Dursley' had to be a common last name, it had to…

_A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. The last was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt afterward?_

_I'll send this with Hedwig when she gets back; she's off hunting at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me._

_Harry_

_P.S. If you want to contact me, I'll be at my friend Ron Weasley's for the rest of the summer. His dad's got us tickets to the Quidditch World Cup!_

James felt tears streaming down his face, his finger tracing the word 'Harry' over and over again…there was no doubt about it, his son was alive, his son was alive…

But he frowned, his son was a year old, he couldn't write…

"James?" asked Lily, her voice hoarse from crying.

James wordlessly shoved the letter into her; as Lily read it her expression turned from confusion and apprehension into shock and joy and then back into confusion. She looked up to face James with utter happiness and shock.

"See, James?" James spun around to face Remus. "Your son's alive. Harry's alive."

"But—but—" Lily stumbled. "Harry's a _baby. _He can't write."

Remus smiled sadly, and Sirius, still massaging his throat corrected, "_Was _a baby. You've been dead for thirteen years."

Lily gasped and James collapsed into the chair.

"What do you mean, _dead_?" She asked quickly.

"I mean six-feet-under-pushing-up-daisies-funeral dead," Sirius said grimly. "It's not 1981—it's 1994. We don't know what's happened. You've just come back to life—but back to Harry—when Voldemort kil-killed you," Sirius swallowed, and James could tell the memory was still painful for him, "He turned his wand on Harry, and tried to curse him. You know, the Killing Curse. _Avada Kedavra. _But it backfired."

"It—it _what?" _Lily asked, astounded, while James' mouth hung open.

Sirius nodded. "That's what I thought, too. But it rebounded, on to Voldemort himself. It only left a scar on Harry, a lightening bolt-shaped scar."

Lily frowned. "How did he survive?"

"You," Remus said simply. "When you died for Harry, you implemented your protection for him by your sacrifice and the curse rebounded off the shield."

Lily turned to James, her eyes shining with tears. "He's alive," James whispered. "My son is alive."

* * *

><p>Alice blinked. Her eyes had a hard time adjusting to the light, the last thing she remembered…Bellatrix! Barty Crouch Junior! Rudolphus! Rabastan! She had tortured her, her and Frank. And then…nothing. It was all hazy, occasionally a face, a boy's face, but that was it. A boy…Her and Frank's boy! They hadn't gotten Neville, had they? And Frank, where was Frank? She had to find her Frank, had to find her Neville! Her boy, her boy! She had to find Neville!<p>

Someone was stirring in bed next to her.

"Frank!" She shook him. "Frankie, it's me!"

"Ali?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes. "Where are we? Where's Neville?" his eyes widened. "What happened? Where did the Death Eaters come from? Did they get Neville?"

"I don't know!" she cried, tears falling down her cheeks. Frank's eyes were wet, too. He wrapped her in a hug.

"My boy, my boy," he whispered tears falling down his nose. "I'll find him, Ali, I will! If it's the last thing I do!" he whispered fiercely, hugging her tight as the passing Healer's tray dropped.


	5. He WHAT?

_Chapter Four_

_ He WHAT?_

_Lily turned to James, her eyes shining with tears. "He's alive," James whispered. "My son is alive."_

"When can we see him?" Lily asked quickly, her maternal side taking over. She needed her Bud in her arms, whether he was fourteen or not. "Does he live with you? Where is he? Why does he mention my sister in his letter?"

"We need to see him," James pleaded. "Tell us."

Remus turned to Sirius, who swallowed. "I have to tell you the rest of the story, and everything will make sense."

Lily nodded, albeit impatiently, she had just learned her son was alive and she needed to see him.

"I had arranged to check on Peter that Halloween," Sirius said, with difficulty. Lily knew he was trying to say the word 'Peter' without multiple curse words. "I was on my flying motorbike—remember that thing? Anyway, by the time I got Peter's, he wasn't there. His flat was empty and I could tell something was wrong. I flew straight over to your house, and—and—" Sirius swallowed and put his face in hands, "Godric, Prongs it looked like a bomb had gone off. There you were, on top of the rubble…and then you, Lily, and there was Harry…nasty cut across his forehead and blood streaming down his face…

Lily shivered and tears rose in her eyes. James an arm around her, they both couldn't bear to think of their sweet, little Harry like that…

"That was when I realized it all came down to Peter. He was the spy; he was the one…that's when Hagrid showed up. Told me he'd take him that he was on Dumbledore's orders to take him. I argued a little longer, then gave him to Hagrid and my motorbike to take wherever Dumbledore wanted, I had a score to settle…

"I tracked Peter down to a Muggle street. There were people all around, and he starts yelling how _I _killed you, how _I _was the spy, how _I _sold you to Voldemort…then just as I was getting ready to curse him, do you know what he does?" Sirius asked James and Lily bitterly. Lily shook her head and bit her lip, she didn't like where this was going…

"He blew up the street."

"He—what?" James blanched.

Sirius barked out a laugh bitterly. "That's what I thought, too. He cuts off his finger then blows up the sewer, killing everyone in sight then transforms into a rat and speeds down into the sewer."

James swore angrily and Lily felt like joining him. "That _bastard,"_ He fumed. "What happened?"

Sirius grinned sheepishly. "You know what happens when I get emotional, I just…I just started laughing, completely overwhelmed by all that had happened and the fact that stupid, ignorant little Peter Pettigrew managed to get the better of _me._"

"You didn't," Lily said, horrified.

He nodded grimly. "They took me away without a trial."

"Not—not to _Azkaban?"_ Lily screeched.

"WITHOUT A TRIAL!" James roared. "I'LL KILL BARTY CROUCH!"

"How—how long?" Lily asked. "How long until Dumbledore got you out?"

"He never got me out."

"He—what?" James stopped dead.

"I was there for twelve years," Sirius said hollowly. "Until I saw a picture of Wormtail in the newspaper—found out he had been masquerading around as a pet rat all these years. Then I escaped."

"You _escaped _Azkaban Prison? I'm sorry, did I hear right?" James asked, dumbfounded.

Sirius grinned. "As Padfoot. Dementors can't sense animal emotions as clearly as human ones. When I was thin enough, I escaped as Padfoot through the bars of my cell. Slipped right through as they were giving me dinner. I've been on the run ever since."

"And Dumbledore did _nothing_?" Lily's eyes narrowed dangerously.

Sirius nodded grimly.

"That—that despicable old fool!" Lily exploded. "He is a LEGILIMENS he could've easily seen you were not the Secret-Keeper!" She calmed down, and turned to Sirius. "I'm sorry, Sirius."

"It's our fault," James mumbled miserably, running a hand through his hair.

Sirius gripped his shoulders. "It is _not _your fault, James. If anything, it's mine. I should've taken Harry and run."

"Why?" James' eyes gleamed dangerously and Sirius and Remus both winced, thinking of how they had both been close to being gored to death with those antlers during bad full moons. "Sirius, answer me. Where. Did. My. Fawn. Go?"

"Dmsdlfnds."

"Sorry, I didn't catch that." Lily said in falsely sweet voice and then growled, "Where did my son go?"

Sirius cleared his throat, "The Dursleys."

Lily felt rage well up inside of her. "WHO THE HELL PUT MY SON WITH THOSE _MAGIC-HATING MONSTERS? _I WILL _SLAUGHTER _THEM! WHO KNOWS WHAT MY BUD HAS BEN THROUGH! THAT WHALE OF MY BROTHER-IN-LAW WILL HURT HIM EVERY CHANCE HE GETS! _WHO PUT HIM THERE?"_

Sirius and Remus both clamped their hands over their ears, knowing full well the extent of the Evans temper. They were both watching James nervously, though, because all of Wizarding kind fled before a Potter when they were angry.

"Dumbledore."

Sure enough, right after Remus uttered that unforgiveable word, the Potter temper was in full steam and James blew his top.

"HOW _DARE _ALBUS DUMBLEDORE—AGAINST OUR WISHES—CONTROLLING THE PROPHECY—MAGICPHOBIC ABUSIVE WHALES—GORE HIM TO DEATH—_ANYONE_ BUT THEM—MY FAWN—ALBUS WULFRIC-WHATEVER-THE-HELL-THE-REST-OF-YOUR-ABNORMALLY-LONG-NAME-IS-DUMBLEDORE I WILL CURSE YOUR ARSE TO THE NEXT _MILLENIA_—"

James was literally spitting with rage, his face as bright red as Lily's hair, so furious he couldn't even form a complete sentence. Lily could've sworn she dust drop from the rafters and the foundation of the apartment building shaking, but after James finished a long list of swear and curses mixed together, he sat down quite calmly, faced Remus and Sirius. Lily said for her husband, who, though looking calm was furious, "We are going to save my son."

* * *

><p>Harry's body was so numbed with pain he couldn't even feel it anymore.<p>

His uncle and aunt had been furious at the prospect of wizards coming. They felt that Harry had to earn the right to leave the Dursleys and promised him retribution for inviting 'his kind' over. They had set Harry a list of twenty-eight chores that comprised of things like weeding the garden, cleaning the gutters, shampooing the roof, cleaning out the attic…when Harry had only got five of these, his uncle had been in a rage.

_"How-" whip "-dare-" punch "-let-" kick "-your-" smack "-abnormal-" whip "-kind-" crunch "-near-" smack "-my-" punch "-house-" whip "-you-" punch "-should-" smack "-go-" whip "-the-" crunch "-same-" carve "-way-" carve "-as-" whip "-your-" smack "-good-" whip "-for-" punch "-nothing-" carve "-parents-" whip "-FREAK!"_

Since Harry had not finished the chores, he was locked in his room and promised that he would only come out for doing chores and the bathroom twice a day while he was fed once a day.

Harry had slipped into unconsciousness after that, a burning, pain-induced dark abyss of sleep. Harry didn't even know if the Dursleys would let him go or would just tell the Weasleys he had run away so they couldn't rescue him…he would probably die from his injuries, lack of food and water, over exhaustion…Harry slipped back into pain-filled sleep as he was thinking about how to hide the new scar on his forearm, the one where his uncle had carved in 'FREAK' just a few hours ago and did not hear the downstairs door open…


	6. Fawn, Bud, Pup, Cub

**A/N: **Hiya, it's Velvety here! I just wanted to warn you about this chapter, where we start to get to the meat of the story and less about explanations (though that chapter will be later, when Harry explains his first-third years and generally gives his parents a heart attack). So, the warnings: there will be very graphic abuse here, (if you didn't catch the end of the last chapter) lots and lots of Dumbledore bashing and shows what his plans for Harry are. So, Dumbledore lovers, you may want to excuse yourselves-Dumbles will not be spared here through the end of this fic! Let the story commence!

* * *

><p><em>Chapter Five<em>

_Fawn, Bud, Pup, Cub_

The sun was shooting brilliant rays of gold and pink into the sky as the purple started to overwhelm the remaining blue. The wind billowed through the trees and left the area of Little Whinging, Surrey, with an almost an anticipative feel to it, as though was awaiting some unknown event.

With a soft _pop, _Remus, James, Lily and Sirius appeared on the corner of Mangolia Crescent. Lily and James quickly Disillusioned themselves, and Sirius transformed into Padfoot as Remus started walking.

"Remember the plan," Remus told them all. "We'll knock and tell Petunia or Vernon that we need to see Harry as it is of 'utmost importance'. If they refuse and know who we are, Sirius will turn back into human form, because I know that Harry's been threatening the Dursleys with him. If they deny it, I take out my wand, and _then _Sirius turns back. Sirius and I will convince Harry; Prongs, Lily, do not Disillusion your selves under _any _circumstances unless it is life threatening or immediate danger. Wait until Sirius and I tell you so, _then _Disillusion yourselves. Now Harry is a smart kid and he'll ask for proof. He'll either think we're joking or it's Death Eaters. Then, James, turn into Prongs. We should then have him convinced, but don't hug him or anything. Let him come to you. Then we'll take him to my apartment and tell the Weasleys to pick him up there for the Cup. Got it?"

"Yes, Remus," came James' voice, slightly annoyed. Remus sighed, they _had _spent the entire day going over the plan, but safety is always first.

As they turned the corner, Privet Drive came into sight. With Remus' enhanced hearing he could hear both James and Lily shivering with anticipation. He could hear James running a hand through his hair like he always did when he was nervous, and Lily shifting from foot to foot and squeezing James' hand.

Remus sucked in a breath nervously as they could see the brass number 4 on the next house. Remus had always known Petunia resented Lily for being a witch and for that Harry never had a great home life, but what would they find? Was he neglected? Cared for? Abused? Remus shivered at the last one. He certainly hoped not…and if Harry was, well, Remus would have to physically stop himself from visiting not only the Dursleys but also Dumbledore during the next full moon for putting Harry in a hellhole.

Remus quickly ascended the steps and checked his robes and face again, making sure the glamour charm stayed on to look like Muggle clothes and a completely new identity. He heard James and Lily behind and Padfoot whining, and pressed the doorbell before he was on the wrong end of Lily's temper.

As the doorbell went off with a _ding-dong-ding _he strained his ears, listening into the home. He heard a television going, the sizzling of a stove, and the screech of a chair being pushed out.

"Vernon, I'll get the door," he heard Petunia's high-pitched voice. Remus winced; it was like murder on his ears, sort of like a house-elf's voice, now that he thought of it…

Petunia pulled open the door. Horse-faced and bony, she had more wrinkles then the last time Remus saw her, but her blonde hair was the same as ever. She had a flowery apron over a salmon-colored sundress, and a string of pearls around her overly long neck.

"Hello, are you Mrs. Dursley?" Remus asked, trying to be polite as possible.

"Yes," she snapped. "We don't take door-to-door salesman."

"No, I'm not a salesman," Remus said pleasantly, but inside he wished he could place a few good hexes on her, "I am Remus Lupin, and I need to speak to Harry Potter. It is a matter of utmost importance."

Remus could see her immediately stiffen at her nephew's name and her eyes narrowed. Padfoot growled.

"No Harry Potter lives here, I'm afraid," she said in a sneer worthy of a Malfoy, "You must have the wrong address," she went to shut the door, but Remus stuck his foot there and drew his wand.

"Harry Potter lives here, Petunia," Remus said coldly. "Don't you remember me?" he tapped his wand and the glamour disappeared.

"Y—you!" she gasped, falling backward into the house. "You were at _her _wedding!"

"Why, yes, I was," Remus said, then looked down at Padfoot, "Sirius, if you please."

Sirius transformed, and Petunia stumbled back into her foyer. "Black!" she screeched.

"Hello, _Dursley_," he sneered. "I've come to check if my godson is alright. Where is he?"

Petunia, still sputtering, backed up into the banister leading up the stairs.

"Petunia?" Remus heard Vernon from the kitchen. "What's the matter, I—oh!"

Vernon had waddled down the hall to see the scene in the foyer. He bellowed at Remus and Sirius, both with their wands out and pointed at Petunia, "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"  
>"I don't think so, Vermin," Sirius snarled at Vernon then looked at Petunia, "<em>Where. Is. He?" <em>

Vernon roared, raising a fist, "Out! OUT! You freaks are threatening my wife, _get out of this house!" _

"_Stup—" _Remus started, but then something caught his attention. He could smell it, he knew that scent anywhere, he knew his cub's scent anywhere, but that was…that was…

"Remus?" Lily's voice asked. "What is it?"

Remus drew a great shuddering breath, inhaling it once more.

"…Blood."

* * *

><p><em>Harry slipped back into sleep, and his dream started off with a woman, a pretty woman with auburn red hair and almond shaped, bright green eyes was sitting next to him on a leather couch.<em>

_ "Don't give up, bud," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "We're almost there, just a little while longer."_

_ "Please, fawn," Harry turned around to face a man with hazel eyes, round glasses, and messy black hair that stuck up in the back. "Don't give up, we're coming for you."_

_ "Mum?" Harry whispered. "Dad?"_

_ His father wrapped him tightly in his arms. "We're coming, fawn," He sobbed, as his mother kissed him repeatedly on the forehead, "I'm so, so sorry—I failed you…"_

_ "Don't worry, bud," Lily whispered wrapping him in an even tighter hug than one of Mrs. Weasley's. "We'll be together soon. All of us."_

_ Harry nodded; he believed it. He knew his mum and dad were coming. He knew it._

Harry's eyes fluttered open weakly. He strained his eyes, as his glasses were lopsided on his face, trying to figure out what was wrong. The sun hadn't risen yet…Aunt Petunia wasn't calling…but there _was _yelling. He forced his ears to listen harder, and caught a few words of what was happening that had woken him up:

_"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" _his uncle was yelling.

Then a familiar male voice, one he couldn't place, said back, "_I don't think so, Vermin. Where. Is. He?"_

_ "Out! OUT!" _it was his uncle again. _"You freaks are threatening my wife, get out of this house!"_

_ "Stup—" _it was another familiar voice, but it cut off. A woman's voice, one he vaguely recognized from somewhere asked, _"Remus?" Remus? _Harry wondered. _It couldn't be Professor Lupin? "What is it?"_

He then heard Remus' voice, shuddering and thoroughly petrified and disgusted say, _"…Blood."_

"WHAT?" suddenly it was the woman screaming. "WHAT DO YOU, MEAN _BLOOD? _WHAT HAPPENED? IS MY BABY ALRIGHT, IS HE HURT?"

Harry frowned, or tried to, he was in so much pain he couldn't. It wasn't Aunt Petunia, but it was the way she might speak about Dudley, or Mrs. Weasley about one of her kids…

"DURSLEY!" this time it was a man's voice. "_DURSLEY, WHAT DID YOU DO? WHERE IS MY FAWN?" _

He heard his uncle's voice again, but everything was becoming dimmer, getting fuzzy, he was slowly slipping back into unconsciousness…but _fawn, _fawn rung a bell…_the dream?_ Harry wondered, _no, it couldn't be, my parents are dead…_

Harry had a fleeting image of Uncle Vernon telling Hagrid that Dumbledore was a crackpot old fool, and he a feeling this would end the same way.

"I gave him what he deserves, a nasty _freak _like him! It's more then he deserves, contaminating normal people, us letting the Freak live here, he should've gone the same way like his good-for-nothing parents—UMMPH!" there was a whimper of pain.

The man's voice was low and dangerous. "Don't you _dare _talk about my son like that, Dursley. He is ten times the man you will ever be! _Now where is he?"_

"Door…top of the stairs…second one…left side…"

Harry could barely catch what they were saying; his room was becoming a blur, and everything was phasing out. He dimly heard feet pounding up the stairs, screaming and yelling…crying…yes, someone was crying over him…strong arms were scooping him, ripping pain and fire through his body as he tried to scream at the contact it made with his open wounds and his chest screaming in pain…the last thing he heard before it all faded to black was,

_"I'm here now, fawn."_

* * *

><p>Tears ran down James' face as he pounded up the stairs with Sirius and Remus. They both looked sick at the sight of red drops staining carpet on the stairs, giving James a foreboding feeling about whatever laid inside…They followed right after him to his son's door. He barely kept in a scream of rage as he saw the deadbolts and cat flap on the door, but Remus, surprisingly, had no such qualms and ran down to where Lily was screaming at Petunia.<p>

With a wave of his wand, the only thing holding him back from cursing the Dursleys—and more importantly, Albus Dumbledore—to the next generation was the fact that the stag inside of him could smell the blood, mingled with the scent of pine and musk and lilies—James caught his breath. His son's scent smelled of Prongs' scent mixed with Lily's. Then there was Harry's, the same musk scent but mixed with sweet smell of sugar maple.

Slamming open the door, Sirius swore as they caught sight of iron bars over the windows. It was a tiny room with beaten-up old wardrobe, a scrubbed wooden desk, shelves with dusty books on them, and a small wooden bed, and on the bed—_Harry. _

James could not hold in the tears as he stumbled blindly over to his fawn. Harry was half-naked, his messy black hair coated with sweat and blood. Sirius and James both yelled profanities as they saw the whip marks over Harry's back, the blue-and-black marks over his thin, skeletal body—his eyes were bulging out of their sockets, him with two purple and black eyes…James screamed in fury when he saw the word FREAK carved into his son's arm…the lacerations crisscrossing his son's arms, legs, back, chest, one that caught across his face…the knee cap twisted almost the wrong way one his fawn's left leg and the swollen ankle on his right…the sheets, which used to be white were stained scarlet…

James gathered his son up in his arms, wrapping him tightly in his arms, and he could hear Harry's scream as he touched his ribs…tears streamed down his face as he sobbed into Harry's hair, "I'm here now, fawn."

James carefully picked his way down the stairs through blurry eyes to Lily and Remus, who were towering in rage over a shrunken Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley Dursley all cowering in a corner of the foyer.

Lily turned to see her son in James' arms and screamed in rage, before she rushed over to James and gathered her son in her arms, sinking to the floor.

"Harry…oh, Harry, I'm so, so sorry…bud, please wake up, please wake up…" she sobbed over the limp form over her and James' pride and joy.

"We need to go," James heard himself say hollowly. "Before that bastard Dumbledore gets here. Remus, Sirius, get his stuff and meet me outside the Anti-Apparation wards."

Remus and Sirius who had been both growling and cursing and raving in canine rage, turned out to get Harry's trunk. James bent down to help Lily with the almost-lifeless form of their son. Lily tapped her wand to Harry's chest and bandages sprang up, that pressed her wand to his forehead to put him into stasis so he wouldn't loose any more blood before they could heal him.

James once again scooped up Harry, his lips pressing to his son's forehead, right over his lightening scar. They walked out on to the porch step, but before they did, James turned to the Dursleys and said coldly, "I promise you there will be hell to pay for treating my son like this."

Sirius turned to face the Dursleys as James and Lily walked out holding Harry. He raised his arm to curse them, but Remus put an arm on his shoulder.

"Padfoot," he said urgently, "the alarms will go off soon and Dumbledore will catch us. Let's get Harry's stuff and go—the faster we get out of here, the better. Harry could die of his injuries."

The revelation about the severity of his pup's injuries jolted Sirius out of revenge mode. He remembered the last time he tried to get revenge—he ended up in a cell in Azkaban; he wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to put him back just because he didn't want anyone to know of Harry's abuse and keep him at the Dursley's for 'the greater good' or whatever the manipulative old man was spouting these days.

He nodded stiffly, but not before throwing a dark look at the Dursleys. Remus headed up the stairs to grab Harry's stuff, but only came down with Hedwig's cage and couple of books and packages of food.

"It's not there," Remus told him, growling at the Dursleys. "Where is his trunk?"

Dudley gave a terrified squeak and hid behind Petunia and Vernon, both of whom were silent and scared stiff, crowded into a corner of the foyer.

"Oh, this is getting ridiculous," Sirius, snapped, taking out his wand. Seeing the Dursleys' seeing their frightened stares at the wand, Sirius growled, "Unfortunately, I'm not going to harm you pieces of garbage." Laying it flat in his palm, he said, "_Point Me, Harry Potter's Belongings!"_

The wand spun around and pointed to the cupboard under the stairs. Remus growled, looking at the padlock on it, but unlocked with a wave of his wand. Sirius pulled out his pup's trunk and broomstick, but what was revealed to be underneath it raised a whole new wave of fury.

Underneath the trunk was a small cot, and against the wall were small shelves with little tin soldiers on them—some knocked over like Harry had recently been playing them.

Sirius' knuckles turning white with his grip on Harry's trunk, he turned to Remus and said hoarsely, "Dumbledore swore to us he was safe. He swore to us he was in a good home. HE SWORE TO US HE WAS BEING CARED FOR!"

Remus had a look of cold fury on his face. "Let's go, Sirius." He turned around to the Dursleys and spit at their feet.

"You—are—_monsters_," Remus said, in cold, calm voice that made amber flash in his eyes and a shadow of the wolf he became show. He spared them another glance then marched out into the darkness.

Sirius, with one last canine snarl that portrayed the savage grim within, followed Remus out with his pup's trunk in hand to meet James and Lily on the corner of Magnolia Crescent.

* * *

><p>Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, and Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot woke with a start. Some of his monitors—actually, they were the ones he stole from Charlus Potter after James was killed (he personally smirked at the thought of ol' Charlie and Dory rolling in their graves)—that minded Harry had stopped working properly. Two of them, to be exact. The one that made sure Harry was in Privet Drive, and the one that monitored his health.<p>

Oh sure, he had fed Harry all the rubbish about blood wards, when in fact, the only blood ward was the former one—the one that made sure Harry _stayed_ with his _blood_ relatives.

He knew how Potter was abused—how could one not see? Sometimes Dumbledore wondered if Snape was really that blind and arrogant not to see his sister-in-all-but-blood's son being abused. But, to be frank, Dumbledore simply didn't give a damn about the boy or his thrice-damned parents' will. In fact, his abuse was the key part of Dumbledore's plan.

Dumbledore knew the prophecy and knew that Harry Freaking Potter, the Brat-Who-Lived-That-He-Had-To-Put-Up-With-Until-The-Arrogant-Brat-Died was the only one who could defeat Tom, his first unwitting protégée.

Well, Dumbledore _thought _he was unwitting.

It appeared that Riddle was smarter and more cunning than Dumbledore gave him credit for. In fact, he loath to admit it, but Riddle was a better Slytherin than even Dumbledore was—his House was another thing he had done extensive work to hide.

Apparently, Riddle, who had already delved deep into the Dark Arts, had been aware of Dumbledore's manipulations from the beginning—the compulsion charms, blocks on his magic, taking his post, even the occasional Imperius curse—and had combated each thing Dumbledore had done without the Master Chess Player's knowledge.

Dumbledore had taking it upon himself to decide this Riddle boy was to be his heir, the day after they met in his orphanage. He was going to play all the right cards to make him Minister of Magic: let him get away with certain things, make himself approachable, etcetera; thus turning him into a nice little pawn of his to play Minister of Magic so he could guide through laws, pass regulations, and generally get away with anything (the Dumbledore family having lost its fortune and Lord title centuries ago), and then, in the end show him the manipulator's game and have him take Dumbledore's place while he journeyed on to 'the next great adventure'. _Honestly. What fools. _He thought. _As if _I _would let myself simply _die.

However, Tom Marvolo Riddle had other plans than simply being a pawn.

Dumbledore had been going to confront him about running for Minister, just after graduation when Riddle approached him, a smirk on his face and quite calmly said, "You should really work on your _imperio, _Professor. A first year could through it off. Believe me, I have experience."

Then he walked away, leaving Dumbledore utterly shocked and furious, but he disappeared far away into Albania, and was not seen again until ten years later when he resurfaced as the new Dark Lord.

But Dumbledore certainly wasn't going to make that Gryffindor-ish Potter brat his heir. No, he had plans. He had indirectly killed off the Potters by suggesting the Fidelius Charm, and then with a few quick compulsions and legilimency probes on Pettigrew, _viola! _He handed the Potters to Voldemort on a silver platter. He then plopped the younger Potter at the Dursleys, but not before using him to get into Potter Castle to steal some of Charlus' trinkets and books, but was frustrated that he couldn't get into the upper levels to get more of the books—he couldn't even get past the Grand Staircase on the first floor.

He then, of course, bound the Potter brat's magic abilities, put a few compulsions on the boy to follow him, have his relations hate him, and have Severus and many Dark families hate him, opened his mind link to Voldemort so Dumbledore could keep tabs on him, and Dumbledore then threw him down on the doorstep and left him with Dursleys—which was the really the masterstroke of his plan. Have the Dursleys bully him into submission so he then looked at Dumbledore as his saving grace, send Hagrid to fetch so he wouldn't explain the magical world at all and give him any independence, and simply _forget _to inform of his parents' will and the fact he was emancipated at age eleven, a lord, heir to five noble families, and scion of five more and conveniently, in the eyes of the Ministry, make him Potter's Magical Guardian (of course, he wasn't, Black was but it helped that Dumbledore got him locked up in Azkaban with no means of escape) and way to steal money from his vaults. Of course, those blasted half-breeds they call goblins would not let him in to the family vaults, but he would get those when he forged Potter's will.

Oh, yes of course! Let us not forget that Dumbledore, each year, set him up with a trial-and-error way of training him: feeding him enough information to conveniently keep him curious about the mystery and terror Dumbledore decided would be good to unleash on the school that year. After all, to the all-powerful Albus Dumbledore, what was a few lousy Mudbloods or half-breed mongrels?

Nothing, that's what.

Anyway, Dumbledore would, _ahem, _conveniently, suggest Severus brew up a love potion, than would take the Mudblood Granger's hair, and he himself would arrange the marriage between Granger and Potter, leaving her as the sole benefactor, while doing the same with the Weasley girl and Longbottom squib (well, he on purposely bound his magic so he would have a back-up in case the Brat-Who-Lived turned into the Brat-Who-Died on one of his stupid heroic stunts saving his friends, who "casually asked" with his grandfatherly persona everyone once in a while how Potter was doing).

Then Potter and Longbottom would handily have a duel with Voldemort, where he would unbind their magic, watch them and Voldemort explode into pieces, and then conveniently stroll in looking teary-eyed. The Mudblood and Weaslette, would of course, die of heart-break and leave everything to him, all of the vast Longbottom and Potter fortunes, leaving him with even more power and money, and eternal lifetime with a certain stone he cleverly stole from his "friend" Nicholas Flamel all of when Sirius Black were conveniently rotting away in Azkaban or drowning in self-pity, respectively.

He had, of course, set backs, like when Sirius Black escaped from prison and had to bring in Remus Lupin in. But "unfortunately" Pettigrew escaped, Dumbledore "couldn't" push for a trial, and Lupin's secret "accidently" got loose. Heh. Oops.

And now, he another set back. Harry Potter was missing and nowhere to be found.

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><p><strong>AN: **So, yes, manipulative, callous, and just plain mean Dumbledore. Again, Dumbledore lovers, Dumbledore may or may not repent at the end of this fic, most likely not, and will probably die in the seventh-year fic of this one. Just so you are aware: he will be referred to as the second Dark Lord. Also, in case you were wondering: this is not a Weasley bashing fic. Ron and Hermione (and Molly, too), when asked by Dumbledore, genuinely thought they were doing what was best for their friend. The Golden Trio will be drifting apart, seeing as Ron and Hermione need to grow up a little bit a recognize their faults, but Harry will still be friends with them. They will mostly become important again in fifth year, during the forming of Dumbledore's Army (though it most certainly not be called that).


	7. Potter Bunker

**A/N: **Hello, it's me, Velvety! I just wanted to thank you all for the reviews, I was shocked I actually got any! Thank you for that. Anyway, I wanted to also apologize for not posting sooner. I had to do some pen-to-paper writing and you will be happy (I hope) to hear that I have the entire renditions of my fanfiction in books 4-7 planned out scene-by-scene! I WILL be finishing this fic, even though it will probably take 2-3 years with all the writing I have planned out-I did NOT abandon it, I shouldn't have posted it that soon when I still had plans to do and wrie out and that was a mistake on my part. I also am I afraid another reason for my delay was that I had to go back and edit my story where some of the scenes were sketchy and the grammar was terrible. I have put the updated versions up, along with the new chapter. I should be posting another chapter this afternoon. Important info for the updated versions of the chapters: Marlene McKinnon does not, anymore, play a part in this story. She simply didn't fit with the story arcs and wasn't a big enough character to have any impact on the story. Also, something you might want to pay attention to is the last word of the prologue.

TonksSmiles: Thank you so much! That made my day!

Preetoka Raven Potter Weasley: You don't have to worry about pairings for now, only James/Lily, which is basically the occasional kiss, nothing big. Pairings won't really come into a big play until fifth and six book, and even then it won't be anything too graphic. I haven't really decided on the pairings yet, but I can tell you there will be no Harry/Luna, since she has a big part to play somewhere else. There is also no Severus/Lily, Severus/Alice, Sirius/Lily, Sirius/Alice, Remus/Lily, Remus/Alice, James/Alice, or Frank/Lily. Just James/Lily, Frank/Alice, and maybe somewhere in the fifth book or later fourth Remus/Tonks. Also, Harry and Neville will be soon becoming "brothers-in-all-but-blood". Probably about three-four chapters to go, when Reg and Siri reunite. Regulus will soon be accepted too, and newly christened "Uncle Reggie".

Blood of the Dawn: Thank you-I always thought that J.K. made Lily look god-like and James like a brat which I didn't agree with. I always thought that a man who would die for his son and wife; though originally arrogant, would have some ulterior motive for bullying someone. In my fic, James, in fact, does. That will be coming up soon, too.

kits-hold-their-tears: Harry's reaction will be sort of different (I hope) from the ones I read-that's all I'll give you.

cardgirl91: It's going to be very inventive. Marauders and wives with tempers strike!

**Warnings: **Just a couple of warnings before we continue. In this chapter, we start to James and Lily's vengeance side, the Potters turn out to be much more Slytherin then we give them credit for, Harry starts to look healthy, a tender mother-son moment, Dumbledore is in fear of his manhood, Alice looses her temper, and Frank and Alice get an interesting letter…

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><p><em>Chapter Six<em>

_Potter Bunker_

Remus and Sirius came running over to James and Lily on the street corner looking angrier than before. Remus was holding an owl cage, loose books, parchment, quills, ink, a large rectangular case that James couldn't identify, and several boxes of what looked like birthday cakes. Sirius was dragging a beaten up trunk and—James' heart leaped when he saw it—a broomstick.

"Come on," Lily moaned urgently. "We need to go. Harry's lost too much blood as it is. These bandages won't hold for long—they were only to move him." James took Lily's word on that. Lily had been a Healer before they went into hiding. She was a valuable contribution to the Order, not only being able to heal the most extensive injuries, but also a protégée Potions maker able to brew convoluted potions that most Potions Masters were stumped on. She outshot Slughorn's knowledge and expertise by far and was said to even rival Severus Snape. "Where are we going?"

James had already figured that part out. They needed to be somewhere untraceable and untouchable. Somewhere even safer than Hogwarts. Somewhere Harry would be able to recover and get the help they need without detection. Somewhere away from the prying eyes of the public, Ministry, and most importantly—Albus Dumbledore.

James knew for a fact that Dumbledore was up to something no good, no matter what he had said. James and Lily had specifically stated in their will that if they were deceased, he was to read a letter they had left to him by no later than twelve hours after their death. In the letter it not only stated who was the secret-keeper, but also the reasons they had never particularly specified to Dumbledore why Harry was to never be left with Petunia and Vernon.

_So what was he playing at?_ Was the question wandering through everyone's mind. James was able to feel the wards around the house, which were practically non-existent. Hell, a first year could walk in; never mind Voldemort. Remus and Sirius had already filled the Potters in on how they both found it peculiar that Harry never wore his Heir ring, nor did he ever wear the crest of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter, Black, or Moon, which Harry was all entitled to on his eleventh birthday; not mention several other things that had simply shrugged off but now were positive parts of his manipulations which had come to light.

There was only one explanation.

Dumbledore was using Harry.

Oh, sure, the Marauders (the _faithful_ Marauders) had all been slightly suspicious as to why after Dumbledore told them the prophecy he had this strange, hungry look in his eye when he saw Harry, but they brushed it off, however uneasily. They also ignored the fact that Dumbledore wasn't able to pick out the spy when he did Legilimency scans on everyone regularly. But, they all simultaneously agreed, _how can the Leader of the Light do anything wrong? _

Now, James grimaced inwardly, did it only make too _much _sense. Dumbledore seemed to have been playing all along to get James and Lily killed, Sirius locked away, and Remus swallowed in guilt—and put Harry where only _the great, noble, infallible Albus Dumbledore _could find him. To say James was happy with this would be like saying Snape was a loveable, pink unicorn with fluffy hair. Exactly. Not in a snowball's chance in hell.

"Potter Bunker," James explained quickly. "I sent all the house-elfs there. They can help us, and it has a fully stocked infirmary. It's not the safest place; Dumbledore will be able to get in, but it should hold them off for a few days. Then we can move into Potter Castle, which is even safer then Hogwarts."

"Okay," Lily said, quivering slightly and still in shock at the bloody, mangled mess that was her son, "apparate on three to outside the boundaries of Potter Bunker?"

James nodded, grasping Harry.

"One—two—_three!_"

James held tightly to his fawn as Apparition took on. Scenes kept replaying in his mind; unbidden they rose to the surface—his parents, lifeless on the ground, under the Cruciatus Curse, hearing the Prophecy, Voldemort, Harry lying limp on the bed, the sheets stained with red, the blood on the stairs…

He couldn't help but think, _what if we were too late? What if we were just one hour later? Would he be dead? Alive? What would've happened?_

James opened his eyes.

Walls surrounded the grounds of Potter Bunker. The five were standing in front of the gate with Potter crest on it: a large 'P' against a gold and red background with two golden griffins facing the 'P', each with a writhing, poisonous red snake in their mouth. Behind the 'P' were two crossed swords. The family motto read: _Anguis in lacum _

_leonum_.

James smirked maliciously, making the others look at him uneasily. Each family motto was woven with spells so that only members of the house knew what the family motto meant—oh sure, the Potters were seen for being one of the prominent three light families and bending over backward to help the thrice-damned Albus Dumbledore, but that was what they saw.

_Snake in the den of lions, indeed. _James thought. No, whilst everyone saw Potters epitome of Gryffindor recklessness and foolishness, Glory Gryffindor learned from her father, passing on to her children how exactly heirs of the noble Godric Gryffindor were supposed to act:

Potters were fighters, as dangerous and deadly as a poison dagger, as protective as a mother bear, and most of all, as cunning and clever as a snake. Those were the three rules of the House of Potter: Love your family, kill your enemies, and keep everyone at unawares.

The Potters were not a Light family, nor were they Dark. They were a Gray family, not a Light like everyone thought, and preferred to keep it that way—you never knew where enemies came from.

Just like the way Godric taught Glory many years ago and Glory taught her sons, they liked to keep everyone thinking they were foolish and reckless and noble and Light, and simply reap the rewards while making themselves known and putting a dent in forces they viewed bad—Light or Dark—and doing what ever means necessary to achieve so.

The only reason they were not put in Slytherin was because the Potters, Gryffindor's heirs, controled twenty-five percent of the wards and also Godric's heirlooms, like the Sorting Hat. The Hat had kept ten centuries of Potters out of Slytherin and in Gryffindor, keeping their enemies unaware. The Potters were not paranoid, no, because each generation had watched an evil figure rise, Dark or Light, and had helped combat them.

James, just like every Potter before him, was taught Dark Arts, blood magic, legilimency, occulmency, charms, potions, Ancient Runes, Arthimancy, necromancy, transfiguration…he had, like all Potters, kept his power hidden and acted like and average student except in Transfiguration, his passion, where he let his passion shine through.

James and his parents had thought at the time it was Voldemort who was the next threat, but apparently the real threat had hidden under their noses for a hundred and fifty years, not only manipulated the world so much that—from what Remus and Sirius told him—he wasn't even sure if anyone knew what the words _use your brains _anymore, had practically the entire Wizarding world eating out of his hand, killed off half the Order (the Marauders had suspected this, now they could confirm it), tricked all the Most Noble and Ancient Houses by putting everyone at each other's necks, and had done the worst thing imaginable.

He had hurt a _Potter. _

Well, the Potters might not have been around for a few years but there would be hell to pay and Albus Dumbledore was going to pay the price for dominating and manipulating the entire Wizarding world to fit his twisted chessboard.

Underneath the crested door was a large, gold doorknob. James immediately put his hand on the knob, grasping it firmly and wincing slightly as drew a sample of his blood. The gates burned gold, indicating validity, and swung open with a _click. _

Potter Bunker was built into a hill. After you walked up the marble steps, there was a grand marble foyer with a vast marble staircase in the middle, with a red velvet and golden-trimmed runner down it a crystal chandelier floating overhead. There were hallways on either side of the staircase, one that went down into the kitchen, infirmary, and house elf's quarters and one to the family dining room and living room and passageway that lead to the family vaults and crypts.

At the top of the staircase, there were double doors and hallways going on either side. Behind the double doors was the drawing room with large double doors, behind there was the ballroom, and behind the ballroom was the formal dining room.

The hallway on the right lead to the guest rooms, whilst the left lead to the family rooms, library, and study. There were over two hundred rooms in Potter Bunker, one hundred-fifty for the refugees of war and fifty for the family and closest friends.

As soon as five made it into the foyer, a squeaky voice called, "Whos dares enters Potter Bunker!"

James, squinting, could see the outline of a house-elf standing in the middle of the Grand Staircase. He recognized that voice… "Noddy?" James asked.

Noddy gasped, "Master James! Master James! You is returned!" Notty raced down the stairs in her fluffy white towel adorned by the Potter crest and a small 'H' stitched on the breast to identify her as Head house-elf, followed by two others, James recognized as the two head Potter house-elfs; Dotty and Kritter. Noddy, Dotty, and Kritter all were head house-elfs for the three main Potter estates—Dotty for Potter Bunker, Kritter for Potter Manor, Noddy for Potter Castle—James sent them all here for safety after his parents were murdered.

"Mistress Lily, too!" Dotty cried, all of them lurching to a stop, "You have returned!"

Kritter gasped. "What has happened to Young Master Harry, Master James?"

"Please, Kritter," James begged. "Harry was being abused by his _relatives_," James snarled—he couldn't believe they were actually related, "Please, get the infirmary ready."

Kritter nodded and popped away, while the five hurried down the hallway and walked inside to the infirmary. The room was long with white marble floor and gray stone walls, twenty-five beds on each side with the white cotton sheets turned down, two chairs, and a oak table with empty potion flagons, parchment and dicto-quills for listing the patient's ailments and injuries.

They laid Harry down on the bed closest to them, and a second later Dotty popped out of no where, placing a casket of about twenty or so healing potions and a pile of bandages, gauze, and thermometers.

Lily ran a scan over Harry, dragging her wand from his forehead to the small of his back. She closed her eyes, her face turning pale with worry then red and blotchy with anger.

"Lily?" James asked softly, from the bedside where he was holding Harry's hand and brooding.

"Silence," she snapped, going into Healer-mode. "His injuries are severe and I need _silence._" She glared at the three marauders.

They nodded dutifully and Sirius and Remus both sat the end of Harry's bed. Lily took off the stasis charm and Harry shuddered in a painful gulp of air, making everyone wince. She vanished the bandages and applied a cleansing spell to all the lacerations all over his body and renewed the bandages all over his body, along with tapping her wand healing the bruises and righting his kneecap and ankle.

They watched, in silence for hours, as she worked over son's body; slowly the red started to fade away and they could see the pale skin and skeletal frame underneath. The marauders watched as Lily healed away the past injuries of abuse, smearing on Anti-Scarring Cream, and the white lines that crisscrossed over his chest and arms disappeared. His legs, too, were restored to one might consider a normal state—as normal as it can be for a boy with stunted growth, punctured lungs, and kidneys from past abuse injuries. Lily healed those too, and Harry's pain-induced sleep had been turned into semi-peaceful slumber, the black and purple circles under his eyes died down into bags and his eyes were not bulging out any more: with the occasional whimper or sharp in-take of breath whenever Lily pressed her wand in the wrong place, but James, Remus, and Sirius were always there to sooth him.

Soon, with an exhausted sigh, Lily collapsed in a chair, and James, with one hand still clasping his son's, rubbed soothing circles on her back, murmuring comforting words as she rubbed the black rings under her eyes and pulled the potions toward her. She forced down Harry's throat three nourishment potions (which would fill him up when ever he was hungry but should'nt've been, due to starvation), growth potions (to work with the nourishment ones and restore his body back to what it should be), nutrient potions (which would give his body the necessary vitamins), and a dreamless sleep potion (to help with the no doubt nightmares of the abuse that would follow).

"He's done," Lily's voice broke as it cut through the still and thick air in the infirmary of Potter Bunker at three in the morning. She smiled wanly, "He's just sleeping. We'll be able to move to Potter Castle in the morning, after we've explained everything. Then it should take about five days for him to recover fully, with him taking potions for the next two weeks."

The marauders all exchanged smiles and James kissed Lily, but they were all too strained emotionally, psychically, and mentally to do anything more—their nerves had been frayed long ago.

"Go," she whispered to James through their embrace. "Go make the arrangements for us to move to the Castle. I—I want some time with my son."

James, wiping away his tears, kissed Lily and beckoned to the marauders, walking out of the infirmary. As soon as he disappeared from sight, Lily sighed and settled down on the bed next to him, putting his head in her lap.

Clucking disapprovingly at the infamous Potter hair Harry possessed, she smoothed it down and kissed his forehead, brushing his scar, a remnant of that infamous night and wondered _how did things get so bad?_ Softly, her tears trickled down her cheeks on to her son. Her voice breaking slightly from lack of use, _has something to for being a grave for fourteen years, _she thought wryly, Lily struck up an old tune, and old tune her mother sung to her and she sung to her son,

_"__When little Birdie bye-bye goes, quiet as mice in churches, _

_He puts his head where no one knows, on one leg he perches._

_When little Babie bye-bye goes, on Mamma's arm reposing, _

_Soon he lies beneath the clothes, safe in the cradle dozing._

_When pretty Pussy goes to sleep, tail and nose together,_

_Then little mice around her creep, lightly as a feather._

_When little Babie goes to sleep, and he is very near us,_

_Then on tip-toe softly creep, that Babie may not here us._

_Lullaby, Lullaby, Lulla-Lulla- Lullaby."_

She smiled in satisfaction as she saw her son's breathing even out a bit, as though responding to her voice. She drew a contented sigh and burrowed back into the pillows, a slight smirk on her lips as she dreamt of all the ways she could castrate Albus Dumbledore and still make it PG enough for Harry to watch.

* * *

><p>Frank and Alice had quite about had <em>enough <em>of the Healers poking and prodding them, asking them stupid questions like "Count to ten backwards, please?" and "What's this thing with four legs and top called?" and their personal favorite, "What's your name?"

Finally, after the Healers had given them their robes and wands back—except for Frank's, because apparently his son used it—they were quite ready to see Neville, even if he _was _thirteen.

"BY MERLIN'S FLUFFY RAINBOW COLORED SHEEP!" Alice finally hollered at the top of her lungs. "LET—US—_OUT!" _

Usually, Alice's outbursts and impatience ended either detention or probation, so Frank, being the quiet, analytical Ravenclaw he was, would usually try to quiet her down, but he didn't—he thought she was very right. _And Merin's fluffy rainbow-colored sheep? _Frank thought amusedly. _That's a new one. I like almost as much as 'Morgana's prehistoric polka-dotted bras'. _

Suddenly, there was a loud popping noise. Frank immediately went for his wand, only to remember it wasn't there. Instead of someone apparating in, there was a letter, floating down like someone had dropped.

Carefully and hesitantly, Frank snatched it out of the air.

_Dear Lord and Lady Longbottom, _he read, with Alice looking over his shoulder, _I, GFW, was the one who cured you. I'm sorry for frightening you with my letter, but it is imperative you know the world is at stake. Many good people will loose their lives and families to the Dark Lords—one to the self-titled 'Lord Voldemort' and the second Lord, the one who claims to be the Lord of the Light, even though was responsible for the deaths of Lord and Lady Potter, the incarceration of innocent Lord Black in Azkaban for twelve years, the 'drowning of grief' of Lord Moon (who you call Remus J. Lupin), the abuse at the hands of Petunia and Vernon Dursley for the Potter Heir, the abuse from the hands of Algernon Longbottom for the Longbottom Heir, and is even responsible for the insanity of you, Lord and Lady Longbottom, and the death of the Second Lord Black. _

Alice's mouth fell open. "He doesn't mean…_Dumbledore _does he? But…Dumbledore…what…" Alice was sputtering now, trying to come up with an argument to combat this, but was coming up with none—Dumbledore was in one way or more responsible for the travesties these people experienced.

Frank grimaced. "Well, he unfortuneately has a point…I wouldn't call Dumbledore a _dark lord, _but things are…well, not looking up. Hang on, there's more…_P.S. I need you to trust me. I know your son, and I'm only trying to help. You'll be meeting Neville soon—this letter is a portkey, but I assure, it is perfectly safe. You'll be meeting some old friends in three—two—one!  
><em>As he finished, Frank felt a jerk in his navel and the spinning around, holding desperately to the letter as he heard his wife's final "BY GODRIC'S YELLOW-BELLIED STOOL!" before he hit the floor and passed out.


	8. Of Nightmares and Dreams

**A/N: **Hello, everyone! Surprised to see me so soon? I did promise, you know. Anyway, onto business. I should do a chapter or two, if I'm lucky, per day. There's nothing really important for me to say here, just that this is the beginning of the big "Potter family" scene. Also, in two chapters will the "Black brothers", "Longbottom family", and "Who the hell is GFW and why are we alive again" scene.

Preetoaka Raven Potter Weasley: Thanks for bringing up the Alice/Frank point! I never noticed that, but now I can see what you mean. I sort of also see that all of the men characters all seem to be really weak and flawed, while the women (Hermione, Ginny, Molly, Narcissa) are all strong and have barely any flaws. As for Lily's sacrifice, I agree. Whenever she brings in Lily's character, she always appears semi-godlike, even in her teenage years, when all we ever hear about is James being an arrogant brat, though I think you would have to be one hell of an honorable man to give up your life for your wife and son. Uncle Reggie's coming to have some fun in chapter nine!

cardgirl91: Thanks!

harry potter is my muse: Thanks for telling me you don't understand. Can you tell me which parts so I can clear them up a bit?

Disney-Princess-In-Disguise: She's going to do a lot more than that, though that would hilarious!

MyraValhallah: Thank you so much! I'm trying to post as much as I can since I got my plans out of the way.

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><p><em>Chapter Seven<em>

_ Of Nightmares and Dreams_

As soon as they got outside the infirmary into the hallway, James broke down into tears; his heart-broken sobs echoing down the empty hallway as he leaned against the wall and pulled his knees to his chest and hid his face.

"I wasn't supposed to be this way…no, none of this was supposed to happen…_it's all my fault_…"

Sirius winced. This sounded like his Azkaban mutterings, for months on end he had let the guilt eat away at him as he huddled in the dark corner of his cell, tears dripping down his face. He felt a new tear drip down his face as he leant down to comfort James, distraught that his brother would look so much like an Azkaban prisoner. He shook James roughly as Remus put a hand on James' shoulders.

"Look at me, James. It's not your fault. Do you hear me? _It's not your fault." _Sirius growled, seeing the fact that James wasn't looking.

_Fine then, _Sirius smirked.

He then slapped James straight across the face.

That had some effect.

"OUCH! What do you want, you mangy mutt? It's all my—UMPH!"

Ouch. Two slaps.

"Listen to me, James. _Listen to me. _It is not, in any way, shape, or form your fault. You died trying to save your son and wife (man, that sounds weird—I mean, you're right here!). That was all you could've done! If anything, it's my fault. I should've known Pettigrew was the traitor…I mean, my god, it's my fau—" Sirius was rambling. He had wanted to say this for so long, to know and be sure that James didn't blame or would forgive him, but he knew he couldn't. There was no way that—"OOMPH! What was that for, you stupid herbivore? I'm the only one allowed to slap you!"

"Listen to me, Padfoot," James growled, tear-tracks still on his face. "I do not blame you. There was no way for you to know, it was Dumbledore's fault. His _entire_ fault. I don't blame you for anything—I blame Dumbledore and Voldemort and Pettigrew. Not you. Do you hear me? _Not you. _You told me not to blame myself. I don't, not anymore. And I don't anymore."

Sirius Black then burst into full-fledged tears and hugged a sobbing James Potter. "Thank you, thank you, I'm so sorry…"

They stood like that for a whole five minutes, crying into each other's arms for a full five minutes with Remus patting their backs. Finally they let go and James brushed away his tears. "I guess moping around like a mop doesn't really help, will it?" he asked as he stood up and lead the way down to the elves' quarters.

Both Remus and Sirius stopped dead, but James kept walking. He finally realized they weren't following and turned around. "Er—guys? What is it?"

"That is the worst joke—" Sirius started.

"You've ever made," Remus finished.

James scowled and cuffed them both around the heads. "Being depressed and angsty doesn't help my jokes!" James whined. "Cut me some slack!"

"No way, Prongsie," Remus smirked, "That was even worst then that pick-up line you used with Lily in our third year. What was it? Oh yeah, 'If you—' "

James slapped a hand over Remus's mouth and growled, "We swore never to talk of that again."

"But, Prongsie ole pal—" Sirius whined.

"Never!"

The three walked into the elves' quarters still bickering about James' third-year pick-up line. When the house-elves caught sight of James, they immediately came flooding out, weaving around elf-sized stools and beds and tables.

"Master James!" They were all crying squeakily. "Master James! Yous is here! Yous is here—"

"Quiet!" Noddy came out from the back of the quarters, scowling and holding a large pan in his skinny arms. "Quiet!" he squeaked, "Go back to your work! Shoo! Shoo! You too, Misjiff!" Noddy scowled again whacked a smaller house-elf, a young one who was grinning toothily and bouncing on the balls of his feet with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, on the bottom with his pan. He then turned his attention to Marauders. "Master James, what Noddy do for you?" he asked, bowing low.

James grinned. "Hello, Noddy. We'll be moving to Potter Castle in the morning, so I was wondering if you could send the house-elfs back to their regular posts? Any new ones can be assigned where we need it most."

"Of course, Master!" Noddy cried with delight. Then he seemed to shrink a little bit. "But Master, we cannot clean all of Potter Castle in five hours…"

"Of course not, Noddy," James said kindly, "I just want you to clean as much as you can, but please start with the family dining room, family parlor, the infirmary, and the real study—not the decoy one."

"Yes, Master James! Who should Noddy be takings for yours personal house-elf?" Noddy asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager to please.

James looked around at the house-elfs milling around. "Sirius and Remus can pick out theirs. Noddy, I'll use Ruddy, my old elf…Let's see…Lily can use Daisy…Lily and Daisy, that should work," James snickered with the Marauders. "And Harry…Harry can use Misjiff."

Noddy nodded, but bit his lip. "Master, Misjiff is a bad house-elf. Misjiff is alwys gettings into lots of troubles."

James smiled. "I'm sure Harry will be fine. From what my friends tell me, Harry certainly loves trouble."

Sirius rolled his eyes. " 'Loves trouble'…kid went looking for a mass-murderer…_trouble, _more like _insanity._"

James scowled at Sirius and swatted him on the back of the head before turning back to Noddy, "We'll be in the infirmary."

When they got back to the infirmary, they smiled at the sight of Lily and Harry curled up together. They made their way over to the bed, when Remus spotted a dicto-quill going—it was the conclusions from one of Lily's scans. Looking over, his mouth fell open as he pulled out the roll of parchment.

It was a listing scan, a kind of scan healers do on patients who sustained lots of injuries a short period of time so the healers can work through them all and not miss any. Usually, the recipients of the scan are torture or abuse victims. But this—this scan topped them all. It was like nothing ever seen before. There were twelve feet of parchment, cataloguing everything from Harry's scraped knees to fractured craniums. Remus winced as he scanned down list, looking at all of the injuries he had accumulated. It was amazing he was still _alive, _much less functioning.

_Shattered right arm, removal of all bones in right arm, scraped right elbow, twisted left ankle, basilisk venom in right arm, scratch on left…_

Remus blinked. It didn't say…? _No! _He scrolled feverishly back up the list. _Basilisk venom?_ Remus wondered dazedly. What was his cub _doing _within _fifty miles _of a _basilisk? _

"Remmy?" asked Sirius, "Whatcha got there?"

Remus wordlessly handed the list to Sirius as he sunk into a chair. Sirius' mouth dropped open. "A _basilisk? _What—what the hell? What in _hell _was my godson doing near a basilisk?"

"Basilisk?" James sat up, alarmed. "What are you talking about, Harry near a basilisk?"

Remus and Sirius exchanged looks. If they were to show James, James would most likely drop dead in shock and anger that Dumbledore let his son near a basilisk. Then again, if they _didn't _show James, who was always overprotective of his son, _they _would most likely drop dead for not showing him it sooner. Being a coward for once in his life, Remus nodded and Sirius held it out to James.

It took a while for James to adjust to what he was seeing. He was frowning, confused, when ever so slowly his mouth dropped open and he turned pale, his eyes bulging. His hand went limp and the parchment fluttered to the ground as his breathing picked up.

"Er—James?" Remus asked hesitantly.

James looked up to him with a shocked and furious expression on his face, and then deadpanned in an oddly calm and blank voice. "My son got bit by a basilisk."

"Um, yes," Sirius squirmed uncomfortably. "If it makes you feel any better, we didn't know either."

"A _basilisk."_

"Yes," said Sirius slowly. "You're taking this _awfully _calm…"

James' face then turned a brilliant shade of magenta and looked like he was about to explode when someone snuffled.

Remus whirled around. It was Harry. Harry had awoken.

"Quick!" He hissed, shoving James out of his chair and toward the door as Sirius yanked Lily out of bed, pushing her to James. "Stay out in the hallway until we tell you to come in! Harry's waking and we have to explain everything to him!"

James and a groggy Lily took one last look at their son before fleeing into the hall. Remus sighed in relief, turning around only to greet a confused, dazed, and bleary-eyed teenager.

"Sirius? Professor Lupin? What's going on?"

* * *

><p><em>Harry felt like he was floating. He was weightless and seemed to be hovering. Looking around he saw he was in a meadow of some sort, like a Quidditch pitch. He was laying on a picnic blanket, and the pain from Vernon's—he refused to call him 'uncle'—beating was slowly seeping away.<em>

_ Suddenly words flowed into the meadow, a beautiful, musical voice that carried itself sweetly and ran through his very being, warming his soul and making him feel something he had never truly felt in his fourteen years of life: loved._

"When little Birdie bye-bye goes, quiet as mice in churches,

He puts his head where no one knows, on one leg he perches.

_ Abruptly, the words were much closer. Turning his head, Harry found his head on his lap of the woman he saw in his earlier dream. She was beautiful, with auburn hair and bright green eyes like his._

_ "Mum?" his voice caught in his throat. "It's you again."_

_ She smiled and nodded, her hair catching the wind. She put a finger to his lips and kept singing._

When little Babie bye-bye goes, on Mamma's arm reposing,

Soon he lies beneath the clothes, safe in the cradle dozing.

_ Harry relaxed into his mother's embrace, soothed by her soft words, and let the wind run around them brushing the flowers and grass._

When pretty Pussy goes to sleep, tail and nose together,

Then little mice around her creep, lightly as a feather.

_ Suddenly a cat appeared in the meadow, leaping over them as she chased a rat. She was a very familiar cat, with square markings around her eyes. Harry frowned, thinking it meant something as she chased the rat out of sight, but Lily smiled at him and just kept singing. This time, though, Harry felt himself falling asleep._

When little Babie goes to sleep, and he is very near us,

Then on tip-toe softly creep, that Babie may not here us.

_ He heard quiety move away, letting him sleep in peace, but not before the last verse of the song was sung, _

Lullaby, Lullaby, Lulla-Lulla- Lullaby."

_ As it finished, Harry shuffled a bit, trying to get comfortable and block out the sun, but it was no use as he was waking up. _

Harry opened his eyes, which were blurry and distorted without his glasses. He made out the gray walls of the room, along with many other beds. That confused him greatly as he should've been at Privet Drive, in his room, with the door locked, feeling miserable, beaten, broken, and starved, not well-fed and rested, with no pains from the beatings, no scars or wounds. He saw a blur of red and black as what looked like two people ran out of the room.

He finally focused on the two figures in front of him, one he thought he was never going to see again and one who he thought was somewhere in South America.

"Sirius? Professor Lupin? What's going on?"


	9. Explanations

**A/N: **This chapter is Harry waking up and finally coming out about the abuse, going into shock, Prongs making an appearance again, and really the last angsty chapter. The one where the Longbottoms will be a bit angsty, but much less then this scene.

MissSadieKane: Yep! George's initials were hard to figure out, but thankfully Neville and Harry don't know him well enough to draw the connection yet.

harry potter is my muse: Okay, I'll try answer all of your questions in the best way:

1. You should see the finer details of their plan in the next chapter, but yes, they are going to fight the war against Voldemort and Dumbledore; who is playing a "covert bad-guy" I guess is a good way to say it. He's masquerading around under his Sir Twinkle Eyes character, but he really wants power, money, and immortality, which is the reason he wants Voldemort dead: Voldemort holds the power over some of the more wealthy families, families who don't like him. Dumbledore is going to have Harry and Neville kill Voldemort so he can get their money and Voldemort's followers, with money and power by offering them refuge from the Ministry, which equals a lot more power and money for him. The reason he doesn't declare himself Minister or a dark lord is because he fears people will be able to more overtly oppose him this way. As Headmaster, he is simply seen as benign and can control people more subtly so they don't have a clue what's happening.

2. Yeah. This is going to go in line with the books for the major plots: the Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort coming back, the Prophecy, the horcruxes and the hallows, but there will be a bit of a different way they get around to these.

3. This is not alternative universe in the way that Harry and co. get transported to a different dimension/world, but more along the lines of me using Jo's plot devices, characters, etc. to make a Harry Potter universe of what would've happened if his parents, the Longbottoms, and Regulus came back to life and if Dumbledore took his manipulations even farther. I hope that makes sense. But it's definitely not a dream.

I can understand what you said about being a logical person-with all the ways fanfics change around and use different terms it's hard to keep it all straight! Thanks!

amber-chick: Thanks so much! I absolutely loved your story "Reactions to the Legend". I was reading it in study hall and I almost peed my pants it was so funny! (Needless to say, everyone looked at me like I was crazy.) Anyway, I always thought it would've been better in Jo's stories if we knew exactly where Harry and Sirius' relationship was and Remus and Harry having a bit more of one. Yeah, James and Lily are going to have coronaries when they find out what Harry's been up to. Thanks, I really do try to make my spelling and grammar neat (though that probably isn't proper grammar). The Potter reunion is coming up next, but the Longbottom and Black reunions are going to start with a lot of confusion. I really hate reading Weasley and Hermione bashing fics, though I understand them. In mine, Ron and Hermione are going to start acknowledging their faults and in the fifth book the Golden Trio shall be back full-force! Thanks for the review!

* * *

><p><em>Chapter Eight<em>

_Explanations_

"_Sirius? Professor Lupin? What's going on?"_

Harry watched as both Sirius and Professor Lupin looked at him with unclear expressions on their faces. Finally, Professor Lupin said, "I'm not your professor and more, Harry. It's Remus or Moony."

Harry blinked, confused at what _exactly _was happening and reached for his glasses. Remus handed them to him, he accepted and said, "Thanks, Remus. But—what's going on?"

Remus and Sirius exchanged looks.

"We rescued from the _Dursleys_," He growled out the name of his relatives. "And brought you here, to recover." He smiled tiredly at Harry. "Are you alright, pup?"

Harry didn't smile back. He had a horrible feeling of dread in his stomach. He knew what was going to happen; Remus and Sirius were going to tell how disappointed they were in him, how his parents would be disappointed in him for not being able to hold off a simple Muggle, and they were going to take him to the Dursleys and tell them they could have their fun, and that Sirius and Remus would never being speaking to him again because how much of a stupid little boy he was and how he wasn't able to Quidditch World Cup and how his parents would be ashamed and how…

"—and we wanted to tell you it's okay."

"What?" Harry asked incredulously.

Sirius frowned at Harry. "The abuse. What the Dursleys did was wrong. We wanted to tell that it's okay, and it's not your fault."

"You…don't _blame _me?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Of course not, Harry," Remus said quietly, sitting down in a chair on the side of Harry's bed. "The abuse is nothing to be ashamed of. You can tell us everything. Anything. Anything at all."

Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and frowned. This wasn't going as he had expected it to. "You'll turn your back on me," Harry told them. "It doesn't matter."

Sirius bit his lip and looked as though he was holding in a growl.

"We—Moony and I—would never turn our back on you. You are family. We love you like one of our own. Tell us anything. We love and we care for you. You are never going back to the Dursleys."

Harry shook his head sadly. "Don't make promises you can't keep. Dumbledore said—"

"To hell with what Dumbledore said!" Both Remus and Sirius yelled in sync.

"Harry, did you ever wonder why a _school _teacher had any say over where you lived and what you did when not in school if he wasn't your legal guardian? Did you ever wonder why you went to the Dursleys when your parents' will says you are to go to me, Remus, Alice and Frank Longbottom, Augusta Longbottom, or Minerva McGonagall?"

Harry's mind suddenly went blank. "I was—wasn't supposed to go to the Dursleys? Who put me there? If I wasn't supposed to go then WHY THE HELL WAS I WITH THOSE ABUSIVE _SWINE_?" Harry's voice had been getting louder with word he spoke until he was yelling.

"Dumbledore," Remus said grimly.

Harry's anger suddenly deflated. This didn't make any sense. Why would the Headmaster, a man who looked at like savior and a grandfatherly figure put him there when he obviously knew what was going on? Harry's throat was dry. "But—why?"

"That doesn't matter right now," Sirius waved it aside. "But do you believe me, Harry? Do you believe us that you're never going back? Do you believe us that we won't turn our back on you when you tell us what happened?"

Harry looked into his godfather and surrogate uncle's eyes. Both radiated kindness and sincerity, two things he had never really, along with love, felt or seen before. Before he knew it, he told them everything. He told them about starvation, the bars on his windows, the cupboard for a bedroom, the constant chores, being mentally and emotionally abused by his aunt, beat up by his cousin, the beatings—lots of beatings by his uncle.

While he spoke, the tears he held back for fourteen years came pouring down his cheeks, but Sirius and Remus did not look at him like he was weak or a freak. They comforted him and smiled, making him feel better, encouraging him to go on. He felt love when he saw the anger that flared in their eyes when he spoke about the things he went through.

Finally, when he was done, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. He felt lighter and carefree, like teenager was supposed to. He didn't feel like there was something keeping him back when smiled; when he smiled he smiled full force. When he laughed, it was genuine and not forced.

When it was over, after many hugs and laughs and cries and choice words (which the marauders had a surprisingly large repertoire of), he looked around the infirmary; he guessed it was, and asked, "Where exactly are we?"

"Potter Bunker," Remus said.

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't know the Potters had a bunker. What is this all about?"

Sirius waved a hand, "The Potters have a lot more than a bunker, but that's not important right now. For now all you need to know is that the Potters were—_are _," Sirius corrected himself, "One of the six most richest pureblood families in Britain, but that doesn't matter right now."

" 'Doesn't matter?'" Harry repeated, his eyebrows now approaching the heavens. "It's a _freaking bunker! _Of course it—" Harry cut off looking at his newly-found guardians serious faces. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, which made Sirius and Remus smile in spite of themselves. "What's this all about?"

Sirius took a deep breath. "Harry, I was writing you a letter when I heard a knock at the door."

Frowning, Harry nodded for him to continue, wondering where this could possible go.

"And at the door were James and Lily Potter alive. Your parents are alive." Sirius said bluntly.

Remus and Sirius both winced as they saw Harry's blank expression; the same one James had worn just an hour earlier. Remus turned to Sirius and muttered, "You couldn't have said it a little more gently?"

"Well, I didn't mean for him to go into Potter-stasis," Sirius mumbled, referring to the what they had christened the blank, dead, emotionless look that all Potters had before they blew up—emotionally or physically. The emotion was usually anger or great sadness and the physical item was usually very expensive.

Harry was in shock and disbelief. There was no way this could be true, his brain kept telling him, while his heart told him differently. _Remember the dreams? _It pestered. _Your parents promised they were coming for you._

There was only one way to know for sure.

"Can I see them, please?" Harry asked in a detached voice, still wrapped in his own thoughts. He vaguely saw Remus nod and go out into the hall when he came back, he was back with two people. They were both wearing torn and frayed robes and their faces look nervous and melancholy.

The woman was the one from his dream—the dream with the lullaby. The same red hair and green eyes, except this time her hair was dirty and unkempt and her eyes were puffy and red and she looked she hadn't slept ages but had also been crying.

The man was the one from his first dream, in the sitting room. His hair is messy like the woman's, but is black and has the windswept look of someone who ran their fingers through it one too many times. He had hazel eyes, bloodshot from crying and tiredness, behind round glasses that sat crooked on his nose.

Still in that detached voice, Harry said, almost robot-like, "If you were my father you could turn into Prongs. Hand me your wand, please."

The man held out his wand, and Harry grasped the other end. They locked eyes, engaged in a strange staring contest of wills until the man nodded imperceptibly at him. He stood back, and transformed with a _pop _into a magnificent stag.

The stag's racks of antlers were a charcoal black, and around his intelligent hazel eyes were black markings like his spectacles. His entire coat was a natural, light brown with a white underbelly that had white spots where the brown and white met.

Harry's mouth fell open. His parents were back. His_ parents _were back. _His _parents were back. His parents were _back. _

Jerking him from his thoughts, the man—his father—turned from Prongs back into James.

James hesitantly approached him, one slow step at a time. Finally, as though checking if he was real, he reaches his hand and puts a hand on his shoulder, and then kneels by Harry's bed.

The entire time, they keep eye contact, reassuring each other the other is real. Finally, kneeling next to Harry, he wrapped his arms around his son—_his _son, his _son_—and hugged him as they cried unashamedly on each other's arms.

Lily rushed over and pried James away. She wrapped her arms around her bud, but burst into tears as she felt him stiffen.

"No one's going to hurt, you baby," his mother said in a musical voice that Harry was now sure was the one that sung the lullaby. "Not anymore. It's over. It's all over."

And the three Potters cried themselves into exhausted sleep in each other's arms and Remus and Sirius smiled in the background.

* * *

><p>Neville and Augusta Longbottom were having a good day. It was breakfast time, the sun was shining and Neville was telling his Gran how he planned to check on his Fanged Geranium was suddenly a note appeared.<p>

Augusta drew her wand, but the note contained no harm and simply floated to the table. Augusta, wand still in hand snatched it off the table and read it aloud,

_"'It's time for you to meet some old friends. GFW.'"_

Neville opened his mouth to ask what it was, but was cut off by a jerk in his navel. He saw choppy images of Gran being lifted up before hit the ground and passed out.

Minerva McGonagall was not having a good day. She was sorting through all sorts of paperwork for the Triwizard Tournament and cursing Dumbledore to high hell for having it held here. Didn't he realize how much of a danger it was? She snorted. Obviously not. _He must be going senile in his old age, _Minerva thought, _Even with an age line, it was simply too easy for an older student could simply walk a younger student's name it._

Just as prepared to sign her name on waiver for Gryffindor students, a note appeared. Drawing her wand, she detected no lies and snatched it out of the sky.

_Prepare to meet some old friends. GFW._

_What? _She wondered, but before she could ponder further she felt a hook in her navel was lifted high off the ground. She and the note disappeared from her office leaving behind only a rustle of papers. Minerva hit the ground and then collapsed

Regulus Black was tired. Tired beyond belief. He had gotten out of the entrance of the cave, (a feat by itself) and swum all the way to the shore (an even larger feat). He was freezing, and trying to figure how exactly he was going to apparate without splinching himself when a note fell out of the sky.

Call him an idiot, but Regulus was tired and a bit sluggish and simply grabbed the note, not bothering to check for any curses.

_Time to go. You're late for an appointment with some old friends. GFW._

Before Regulus had time to figure out what the hell this meant, seeing as he didn't _have _any old friends, except for his brother, who had deluded into believing he was a supporter of Voldemort for his own safety he was whisked away by a jerk in his navel. His last thought before he hit the ground and passed out was.

_I shoul've checked it for jinxes._


	10. About Death, Food, Chocolate Princesses

A/N: Hello, it's me, Velvety I'm sorry to tell you that my estimation about when everyone meets was a little off. It will be Chapter Twelve. I realized I have a lot more information about the Potters and Potter Castle to put in, but you should (hopefully) be happy to know I have written all the way through Chapter Eleven so Chapter Twelve is being written up as we speak. Sorry for the delay! cardgirl91: Yep, he should've, but George likes playing his little tricks. harry potter is my muse: No, not Ginny, and thanks! That means a lot. Disney-Princess-In-Disguise: Emmeline will still be there. She never got over him, however we don't meet her until the fifth book. Maybe later fourth. McGonagall is very significant in this story. Harry did know her as a baby, we'll meet her with all the others. Also, Neville's going to have a personality change once he meets his parents. Preetoaka Raven Potter Weasley: Yeah. I noticed that too. Ron's going to come in in later chapters but at the end with little snippets of him. He's going to start growing up this summer, and put his (very real) fears to side. He's also going to help Hermione tone down a bit and open her mind because, to me, she seems really naive for someone so smart. I always JK did that a bit with Narcissa, seeing how she "redeemed" herself in the seventh book. Correct assumption for GFW. Unfortunately, his initials weren't too hard to figure out. To your second review: Sirius/Hermione and Regulus/Hermione just aren't practical in my story. They won't work for a number of reasons, but the most prominent being that Hermione is too young and not an important enough character. Zireael07: Yeah, it's George messing with time because some things have "come to light" after the war. I'm glad you like it. I'm a sucker for James and/or LIly come back to life stories but I hate the ones that have no plot. I have a definite plot for this.

_Chapter Nine _

_About Death, Food and Chocolate Princesses_

James slowly untangled himself from under Lily and Harry. He could see that it was late afternoon, however Harry was still out, along with Sirius and Remus in their respective chairs but Lily's eyes fluttered. "James?" she murmured. When she got his acquiesce, she asked, "What's going on?"

"We need to move to Potter Castle for safety. These wards were breached with Grindelwald, but in Potter Castle only Potters can get in. Anyone else, they their okay. Noddy!"

There was a sharp _crack_ in which Sirius and Remus fell of their chairs, but James was too tired to laugh. "Remus, can you go get Harry's stuff? We're moving to Potter Castle. Bring the scan," he added in an undertone.

Remus, running a hand through his tousled hair, nodded grimly, but Sirius just rubbed his eyes.

"Noddy, if you can please apparate us to the family parlor in the Castle, please. Take Remus and Sirius first. They've been before, so they don't need access." Noddy nodded, and taking Remus' hand, who had run in with Harry's stuff, and Sirius' they disappeared again.

James turned to Harry and gently shook him awake. He opened his eyes blearily, "D-d-aad? What's happening?"

"Morning, or afternoon, fawn. We're moving to Potter Castle. Just hold Noddy's hand, he'll take us."

Harry sat up and stretched. "Who's Noddy?"

"The Head House-Elf of Potter Castle."

Harry frowned and was about to say something but got cut off by another loud _crack. _Noddy appeared, bouncing on his feet. "Now it is yours turns, Master James, Mistress Lily, young Master Harry!"

Harry blinked and still seemed to be trying to take this all in when Noddy grabbed his hand. He felt the strangest and most horrible sensation of being pushed down something like a pipe.

When it finished, he gasped for breath and fell down on his knees. "What _was _that?"

"Apparating," Lily laughed, helping him up. "You did better than me, I threw up the first time. Kind of feels like going down a pipe, doesn't it?"

"While that pipe is trying to strangle you," Harry rubbed his throat. "But it's better than the floo."

Harry looked around the room in awe. It was large, about the size of the Gryffindor common room with sixteen-foot high ceilings with polished wood rafters of a dark maple color and a lavish crimson and gold Persian rug. They shone in the light of the fire, which crackled merrily in a marble fireplace with intricate carvings that took up half of the east wall. The rest of the wall was covered with bookshelves, around and above the fireplace stretching all the way to the ceilings, except for where a large mirror hung above the mantle.

Seated in front of fireplace was a leather couch with fluffy pillows and blankets, and two armchairs on either side of the couch, both facing the oaken coffee table in front of the couch.

The north, south, and west walls were the same, bookshelves stretching to the ceiling but they had desks jutting out at hip-level that wrapped around the room, with comfy armchairs grouped in twos and threes occasionally. On the north and west walls there were door interrupting the bookcases, leading into what looked like a ballroom and dining room on the respective north and west walls.

Sirius and Remus, who he didn't realize were in the room, started laughing along with Lily while dull blush appeared on James' cheeks. He scowled while Sirius said, "It seems you take after your dad in more than just looks. He got lost his first time, did you know?"

The blush on James' face grew darker while a pink tinge appeared on Harry's.

"You didn't," Remus said in horrified voice. "You got lost too."

Harry put on a scowl remarkably like his father's. "I didn't get lost! I was just—just—"

"Exploring the insides of chimneys?" Sirius said slyly. "Won't work, pup. James fed us that lie already." He, Lily, Remus and even James was laughing at that. Harry couldn't help but let a laugh escape his lips before it was taken over by a large yawn,

Everyone immediately stopped laughing to look concernedly at Harry. _Honestly, _Harry rolled his eyes inwardly. _Can you say 'overprotective'? _But he was smiling inside at the thought that his family—his _family_—would care so much for him.

"I'm fine," Harry said hastily, but they just glared at him and Lily dragged Harry to the leather couch, forced him down and drowned him in a blanket.

"Sleep," she instructed. "Your body went through an extensive healing process and putting too much strain on it would be very bad." She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I'm going to make lunch. Sleep," she ordered again. "I won't have my baby getting sick."

She drifted off through the door on the west wall. James came pushed the cocooned Harry up, his head on his shoulders and wrapping James' arm around him. Harry was a bit embarrassed, but pleased nonetheless. _This means my mum and dad love me! _Harry's heart raced wildly.

"She's right, you know," Sirius said for James, putting his feet on the coffee table.

"I know," Harry moaned. "I've been the hospital wing enough times to know _that,_" Harry scoffed, unintentionally sending a wave of worry through his family's minds, "But that doesn't mean I have to like it. She's worst than Madame Pomfrey, and I have my name engraved on a hospital bed!"

James, Sirius, and Remus chuckled at the joke despite the fact it meant their cub/pup/fawn had been in the hospital wing more than few hundred times. Harry unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn, and at the glare of the marauders, finally closed his eyes.

Harry woke the sizzling of bacon. Slowly, he opened his eyes. _Where am I? _he wondered. _Aunt Petunia is never cooking breakfast, that's what I do…_

Suddenly, his heart gave a leap and he remembered where he was. His parents were alive! _And _they seem to like him! Harry wondered if they loved, like Sirius and Remus said they did—_no, they do_, Harry reminded himself firmly. He remembered the emotion in their eyes—they actually did love him!

Abruptly, he was aware of the fact his father was clutching him tightly. Harry tried to squirm around and look at James, but under his firm grip he couldn't move. He looked helplessly around the room. His mum was still in the dining room; Sirius and Remus were still asleep in their respective armchairs.

"No," his father muttered. "_No. No._"

Harry wondered what his father could possibly dreaming about, but put that thought aside as he struggled, trying to shake his father awake, but that only made him hold on tighter.

"_No, not Harry! Lily, I love you! Lily, take Harry and go! Run! It's him, I'll hold him off!"_ Tears ran down James' froze. His father wasn't dreaming. His father was having a nightmare. It was the same one Harry still had, but his included Voldemort's high-pitched laughter, Ginny dying in the Chamber of Secrets, dementors, Hermione, petrified, Ron dying from McGonagall's chess set…

"_NO, NO, _NO!_ NOT HARRY, YOU BASTARD!" _James' yell did nothing to jerk him awake, even as a roar of magic swept through the room knocking books off their shelves and shaking the room with a magical gust of wind.

Before he realized, stuck in a paralysis of shock and an onslaught of bad memories, he drifted to sleep, the Dreamless Sleep potion taking a hold on his still weak body, but did not hold back the dreams.

James woke up with a start, feverish, sweaty, tears dripping down his face, and shaking from his nightmare. He reminded himself over and over again it was only a nightmare, but he couldn't stop the scenes replaying in his head. He was revisiting Halloween again—only this time he was watching Harry die. The scenes played before his eyes over and over, but he could not get rid of them. Looking around the room and taking in the damage, he waved his wand and muttered, _"Reparo maximum." _ And the books and everything blown over righted themselves.

He looked over at his sleeping friends, wondering how on earth it was possible they were still asleep. James looked down at his son only to realize he was holding him in a vice like grip and Harry was thrashing around. He quickly loosened his grip but did not remove his hand, remembering how Harry had died at the hands of Voldemort after being tortured mercilessly for hours on end. It had started with that Halloween, but gradually shifted from being killed to being locked up Voldemort's base with Remus and Sirius and Lily and watching their son endure _crucios _and dark curses, then turned to somewhere even more…somewhere worse…

_James watched helplessly, crying out for his son. Voldemort simply laughed and fired another curse at Harry. Only this time, it was not a Bone-Breaking Curse or a Slashing Hex. _

"_CRUCIO!"_

_All four of them were crying, Lily was screaming, begging for her son, as Harry's yells echoed through the dark dungeons. When Voldemort lifted the curse, he looked at Harry with satisfaction and said, "Enough for you, Harry Potter? Or should I let Bella have a try?"_

_Indeed, Bellatrix stepped out of the shadows and cackled manically, "Oh, if it isn't wittle baby Pwotter! You're waiting for itty bitty Dumbles, but Dumbly isn't going to save you now!"_

_Harry looked up at Voldemort and Bellatrix, a grin crawling on to his face. A feral, unearthly grin. "Going to kill me, now?" Harry said in a mocking, jeering voice. "I'm a Potter. A _Potter. _You know what that means?"_

_Voldemort raised a non-existent eyebrow. "You're Dumbledore's Golden Boy?"_

_Harry barked out a laugh. "That the day I serve Dumbledore is the day I serve you. And we all know how unlikely that is, don't we Tom?"_

_Voldemort's face changed to a look of ugly fury. "You little brat of a Mudblood. I'll—"_

"_You'll what, you brat of a Muggle?" Harry laughed. "You can't kill me. You'll die. Bone of the father, unknowingly taken, flesh of the servant, willingly given…" _

_The scene changed. They were in a graveyard. Harry was tied to a gravestone, his robes were ripped and he looked barely older than he was now. There was the body of a boy, an older boy lying spread-eagle not to far away…There was a man in front of Harry, with a bloody stump for a hand…Wormtail…James felt fury rage through him and his blood turn to ice as the coward pulled out a dagger and grabbed his son's arm._

"_B—b—blood of an e—enemy, f—f—forcefully t—t—aken…" Wormtail sliced down his son's arm, drawing blood as he looked at Pettigrew cold, unfeeling, unforgiving eyes…_

_He poured the blood into a cauldron, and slowly a white figure rose from it…_

_Voldemort._

_He turned his eyes on Harry. "Well, well, well…Harry Potter. I must say you've been of great use to me—you're going to die now, of course, but not before I tell you a little story."_

_Voldemort smirked and went on to tell Harry about his past but James wasn't paying attention. He only had eyes for his son, who was sagging against the bonds of his gravestone. His son couldn't die. He couldn't just _die. _James looked at his son, willing everything he had that it was _he _in the graveyard, not Harry. Abruptly something Voldemort said caught his attention, "…give him back his wand, Wormtail."_

_NO! James screamed. NO! His son couldn't duel; he was only fourteen, not even! Wormtail slashed through the ropes with a new silver hand, and now he felt a wave of fear and hopelessness as he cried out, looking at the Death Eaters standing around his son. NO!_

_Harry got slowly to his feet, griping his wand tightly._

_NO!_

"_You know how to duel, don't you, Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked him, smiling. "First we bow to each other."_

_ Harry stared at Voldemort. Finally he said, in a quiet and hoarse voice, "I won't bow to you."_

_ Voldemort smirked. "Feeling feisty, Harry Potter? Fine then." He waved his wand Harry's back was forced down until he was bowing._

_ "Very good, Harry Potter. Now let us duel. Crucio!" Harry was on the ground, screaming again. James was screaming in rage and fear for his son. "NO!" he screamed again and again as if in some way Voldemort would take mercy on his son._

_ Finally, Voldemort let up the curse. Harry was on the ground, panting, and Voldemort laughed, "Would like that again, Harry Potter?"_

_ Harry stood and looked firmly and unwaveringly at Voldemort._

_ "Answer me, Harry Potter. Not going to? Imperio."_

_ James could only yell over and over again as his son struggled with the curse. _

_ "I WON'T!" Harry yelled._

"_You won't?" Voldemort smirked. "Crucio."_

_NO! James screamed. NO!_

_ "Ready to die, Harry Potter?" Voldemort whispered, leaning over the crumpled form of his son. _

_ Harry slowly got to his feet. _

_ He looked at Voldemort._

_ "Kill me."_

_ James felt shock and fear and anger ripple through his body. NO! he screamed again. NO, HARRY, YOU CAN'T DIE!_

_ Voldemort looked shocked. "Dumbledore's Golden Boy wanting to die? This is… interesting."_

_ Harry looked up at him unblinkingly. _

_ "Kill me."_

_ "Avada Kedavra."_

_ Finally, finding his voice, he screamed, "NOT HARRY, YOU BASTARD!"_

_ James watched, paralyzed with shock, disbelief, and heartbreak as the green light ran out of Voldemort's wand and toward his son. Miss, James prayed. Miss! For the love of Godric please MISS!  
>The curse hit its mark. Harry's limp body fell to the ground.<em>

_ There was silence. James couldn't process anything else. His son was dead. His son, the boy he loved more than even Lily was _dead. _It wasn't possible. Heartbreak and anger over took everything else. He looked at Voldemort coldly, "I will kill you for this. I will kill you _all _for this."_

_ A ripple of fear seemed to go through the ranks, but the dream had ended…_

James closed his eyes, willing the images to go away. He would never forget that dream, as long as he lived. He clutched Harry possessively and protectively to his chest, only realizing then that Harry was not uncomfortable. Harry was having a nightmare.

"_LIAR! NEVER! I'll never join you, Voldemort, as long as I live. I'll die before I do…no, Ginny, wake up, please wake up, please don't be dead…" _

James couldn't make any sense of his words, only that Harry had faced Voldemort when he was old enough to remember and talk about it. He started shaking Harry awake, soothing him at the same time.

Lily came running in from the kitchen.

"James, what's going on? Why were you yelling?" Lily knelt down beside the couch. Noting Harry's condition, she gently started to shake Harry shuddered and awoke with a gasp.

"Shh, baby," Lily wrapped her arms around Harry, smothering him in hug. Or, trying to, James was still holding on to Harry. She kissed his forehead and Harry's breathing slowed. James had his arms locked around Harry's waist. "It was just nightmares. We're here now, don't worry, bud."

James put his chin on Harry's head and whispered, "It's over, fawn." James grasped him tighter as he remembered the dream he had, his face growing cold thinking of Voldemort. "It's all over. We'll never let you go. You know that?"

Harry's breathing and pulse slowed. "Yeah, I know that," he mumbled.

"You know that we love you?"

Harry's head shot up. "You actually love me?"

"Of course we do," Lily wrapped her arms around him, "We'd still love you even if you joined Voldemort. We'd be angry, but we'd love you. We'd love you no matter what. A parent's love for a child is unconditional."

"Really?" Harry asked in a hopeful voice that broke James' heart. _He never had someone tell him they love him! I kill those bastards! _James swore violently in his mind and wrapped Harry (if it was possible) in a tighter hug. "Of course, fawn. Nothing could ever stop us from loving you."

"But," Harry said, confused, "You died because of me."

"No! Not because of you, for you!" Lily looked heartbroken, "We could never think that!"

James felt his shattered heart be stomped on by hippogriffs. "Harry James Potter, don't you ever think that again," James said lowly. "We would do anything for you. We died _for _you, not _because _of you. You are our son and we love you, no matter what, for who you are. You could be a Slytherin or spider and would still love you. Do you understand?"

Harry looked to be somewhat in awe. "I love you, too," Harry said softly and James and Lily smiled so widely Harry thought their faces might break.

"Let's go wake your uncles, shall we? I bet Flower has some food ready and I want to show you something, Harry. OI! WAKEY-WAKEY!"

They didn't stir.

Harry had a funny look on his face. He turned to his father, and asked, "Does Padfoot like food?"

A grin unfurled across James' face. "You were the Marauders' heir for a reason, my dear fawn." He walked over and whispered into Sirius' ear, "_Hey, Padfoot! You're going to miss breakfast if you don't—"_

"BREAKFAST!" Sirius jumped up a wide grin on his face, looking around eagerly. His smile melted off when he saw James and Harry laughing at him. "You Potters are all the same," he muttered, "Where's the food?"

"Dining room, idiot," James rolled his eyes, and then walked over to Remus who was still sleeping and whispered, "_Hey, Moony there's a chocolate sale in Hogsmeade—"_

"CHOCOLATE!" Remus screamed, jumping up, "WHERE? WHERE? WHERE? GIMME, GIMME, GIMME!"

He looked at the Potters laughing on the floor and chucked a pillow at James. "Stupid herbivore," he muttered.

"Breakfast's in the dining room, Chocolate Princess," James snickered at the affronted look on Remus' face.

"Shut up, Prongs," Remus muttered, "I do _not _have a chocolate addiction."

Harry was finding it very hard not to laugh at this debate.

"Yes, you do," James said adamantly. "Do I need remind you of March, 22nd in 1972—?"

"NO!" Remus yelled while Sirius' voice came from the kitchen, "YES!"  
>Harry laughed, which made Remus look at him and James get a smug look on his face, keeping an arm around Harry's shoulders as they walked into the dining room.<p> 


	11. About Potters, Redheads, and Cunning

**A/N: **I just wanted to say that this chapter gives more details about the "Potter Legacy" and alludes to some potential allies if you watch carefully. Thanks for the reviews!

MyraValhallah: A story for Christmas time…

Preetoaka Raven Potter Weasley: I read your profile and you really opened my mind to some things I hadn't thought about before! It was great!

faneka: I always thought that James was more than an average school-bully JK seemed to make it out to be, and I included that in my story. I'm glad you like it!

5ky1ark: Thank you so much! You made my day!

_Chapter Ten_

_About Potters, Redheads, and Cunning_

The dining room was a large room with a scarlet rug with gold trimming. It had a doorway on the far side of the room that led to a spiral staircase. There was a large, mahogany table, which took up most of the room, except for a corner that had been sectioned off, with terra cotta tiles, mahogany cabinets a stove and a red marble counter over mahogany cabinets.

The mahogany table was draped in red and gold, piled high with plates of pancakes, bacon, sausage, waffles, cereal and pitchers of milk, pumpkin and orange juice. The walls were draped in red and gold too, making it feel vaguely like a circus tent except for the four pictures on the wall.

One was baby Harry with his parents, which made him blush a little, then there was a man who looked like a trademark Potter with the glasses and messy black hair but had bright blue eyes, and woman who seemed to be his wife, who looked remarkably like Sirius, with the same gray eyes, aristocratic nose, high cheek bones and tan skin, except she had bright red hair. The next picture was another Potter man, except he had brown eyes. The woman was pretty with curly red hair, hazel eyes, tan skin, and plump lips. There was another Potter man, this time with blue eyes, and woman with red hair, warm cocoa eyes, and freckles. Everyone except James, Lily, and Harry were moving.

"Who are those people?" Harry asked his father. The women in the three paintings snorted. "Potter men have no manners," They all intoned, causing their husbands to blush.

"That's right," Lily agreed, walking away from the kitchen and placing a platter of pancakes on the dining room table. She cast a wary eye over at Sirius, who was already seated at the table and looking at the food with a feral expression. "Black men too, Dorea." She nodded to the woman who looked like Sirius.

The woman, Dorea, snorted, "No other Black was like that. It was only Sirius and Regulus."

Sirius, who had been sneaking a piece of bacon looked up at Dorea and said sheepishly, "Sorry, Auntie Dorea."

Dorea laughed and looked at James and Harry, "Jamie! Is that you? And Harry! I haven't seen you since you were six months old!"

Suddenly all the portraits were focused on Harry and James, the former feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

"Hi Mum!" James said, pulling Harry over to the portrait. "Mum, Dad, this is your grandson, Harry. Say hello to Grandma and Grandpa, Harry."

Harry, who was just starting to get used to having parents, let alone grandparents, finally said, "Hello Grandma, Grandpa."

"Hello, Harry," they both intoned. The man, Harry's grandfather turned to James. "Why haven't you taken him here before?"

"I was dead," James said shortly. He didn't really want to think about how the Dursleys had been abusing his son, Dumbledore manipulating him, and the dream about Harry…dying.

The woman with red hair and freckles, looked at James and, frowning, "Your portrait never woke up."

"Maybe because Harry wasn't dead and was in the portrait?" James suggested.

"Maybe," said the woman, "But I don't think so. I think your were dead—like Lily told us, but I think someone has been messing with time. I think that your portraits were purposely waiting until you were brought back to life."

"That makes no sense," James shook his head. "Okay, Harry, so this is your grandmother and grandfather, Charlus and Dorea Potter neé Black, Sirius' great-aunt," he pointed to the first painting. "These are your great-grandparents, Andrew and Gabrielle Potter neé Delacour," he pointed to the second painting, "And those are great-great grandparents, Richard and Delia Potter neé Greengrass."

Harry felt overwhelmed and angry. It was clear the Potters were a large and old family, why hadn't he been told any of this? And second of all, why were all the women redheads? He brushed the second question aside for now, and looked at his father. "Why wasn't I told any of this, Dad?" Harry inwardly smiled at the saying 'dad', but plowed on, "I mean, surely someone could've told me all of this! The Weasleys, Hagrid, Dumbledore—" he stopped when he got to Dumbledore, looking around at his family's angry faces. "What about Dumbledore?"

Harry knew Dumbledore had put him with the Dursleys from what Sirius and Remus had told him, and also knew there were three other people who would've been able to take him, but figured Dumbledore would've had good reasons. But looking at his family's faces told him something was very, very wrong.

Lily looked grim, "Come eat first, sweetheart. James has something to show and then we'll go to the study and discuss this. But I'll tell you this: Dumbledore is no longer a friend."

Harry was bewildered and wanted to comment more on this, but Lily forced him into chair and piled his plate high with oatmeal, orange juice, toast, fruit, sausages, bacon, pancakes and the like. Harry was slowly getting the feeling that Lily may have more in common with Mrs. Weasley than just hair color.

* * *

><p>Breakfast was a lively affair. The Marauders and Lily regaled tales of their Hogwarts years, and Harry entertained with stories of his friends and enemies. The Marauders grinned and cheered when he told them about Draco Malfoy, and Lily had groaned something about some traditions not worth keeping. The Marauders then proceeded to tell him about how they met Snape—Snivellus, according to the Marauders—on the train.<p>

James was keeping close to Harry. Everyone could tell something was bothering him, though not Harry, who though he had a suspicion, he still wasn't sure. After breakfast was over James grabbed Harry's hand.

"I'm going to show you something," he told Harry. "No peaking," he added teasingly, covering Harry's eyes with his hands. He snapped his fingers and Noddy appeared and apparated them out to courtyard, where he uncovered Harry's eyes.

Harry's mouth dropped open. "Merlin!" he yelped, looking at what was in front of him.

They were standing in front of a castle that was larger then Hogwarts. It had ten towers, four large ones at the corners and two smaller ones in between each large one and spires rising all around. It rose seven stories tall, taking up over nine acres of land. The windows glittered with light against the gray stone. It was accented with gold, making it seem even more fairytale than Hogwarts.

It was built on a grassy hill, and about a mile down led into a forest that spread as far as Harry could see. In fact, you couldn't see anymore than that other than mountains rising in the background.

There some sort of magical lake that was as big as a bay and dotted with islands that held various houses. There was a full-sized Quidditch pitch also, with full stands decorated in reed and gold.

Harry gazed at the sight in front of him, looking up to the castle. There were gray marble stairs leading up to double doors. Above the double doors was a shield, red and gold with a red 'P' outlined in gold set against it, with two crossed swords behind the 'P'. Two griffins were profile, facing the 'P' with writhing, poisonous red serpents in their mouths. The banner underneath read: _Anguis in lacum leonum_.

"What—what is this?" Harry asked, stupefied.

"Welcome to Potter Castle," James grinned. Then he added in a soft voice, "Welcome home, fawn."

Harry was about to ask why he was never told any of this, but James put a finger to his lips, "We'll tell when we get to the study, but right now, I have to tell you about the Potters."

Harry nodded wanting to learn why there was castle belonging to his family.

James sat down on the lowest step and patted the seat next to him. Harry sat down obligingly, and James started,

"The first Potter ever was named the son of Ignotus Peverell. His name was Ivor. Ivor Potter. Ivor was a warrior, and conquered a lot of land. He was a feared warrior, both magical and Muggle, but a good and noble man with the right ideals and values. Everyone thought Ivor conquered for himself and his own gain, but he held the belief that unified kingdom is better than a separate ones constantly fighting—that we would be able to combat enemies and care for each other.

"Ivor owned much land in Scotland. He gave the land to the Founders to build Hogwarts on, favoring their idea of uniting young witches and wizards and building a strong community.

"Ivor was friends with Founders for many years, but was more than disappointed and disapproving when Slytherin left the school. But nevertheless, he remained friends with them, especially Godric Gryffindor.

"He married Glory Gryffindor, Godric's only daughter. Glory was a redhead," James smiled, "Anyway, they had three sons. Each son had unruly, messy black hair, bad eyesight, and thing for redheads. Every Potter has married a redhead since then.

"Glory and Ivor taught the values of nobility, bravery, courage, and most of all, cunning."

"Cunning?" Harry asked, surprised, "Isn't that a Slytherin trait?"

James smiled at his son, "No, it's a Potter trait. The House of Potter is not light family, like everyone thinks. We are a gray family."

"A gray family?" Harry was even more perplexed by this.

"Tell, what is the difference between the light and dark arts? Can't a _wingardium leviosa _be used to throw someone off a cliff? Can't a _reducto _be used to kill someone? Can't _avada kedavra _be used to give someone a painless death? Can't an _imperio _be used to stop someone from committing suicide?"

Harry felt his whole world, everything he built it on, come crashing down. Hadn't Dumbledore told him there was a definite line between evil and good? Harry was starting to get angry with the old man. What else hadn't he told Harry?

"So it's not defined," Harry marveled out simple everything was. "It's a tool, and it all depends on the user."

James beamed. "Exactly. Potters are warriors. Nothing more, nothing less. We fight however we want to, be it through words or swords or electoral votes. We fight for the good of our family, but we do it our way. We use Dark Arts and Light Arts and Necromancy and Blood Rituals and Warding and Transfiguration—especially that. Godric Gryffindor was the first animagus and every Potter—since his line runs through ours—has been one since, as a natural animagus. We fight for the good of our family. We are the only line to carry Godric Gryffindor's blood, all of his sons' lines died out years ago. We fight through any means, any ways, and for our family. We never let anyone know of our true power and potential, we always keep it hidden from enemies and anyone. We never let anyone know how or what we are fighting until we have already won. Those are the Three Values of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter: Love your family, kill your enemies, and keep everyone at unawares."

Harry was dumbstruck and dumbfounded. _Love your family, kill your enemies, and keep everyone at unawares, _chanted over and over again in his head. Those were his three values as a Potter and as a warrior. How many times had he been thrust into situations he didn't want or need? _We fight for the good of our family, _James' voice echoed in his head. Harry knew what he had to do. He had to fight Voldemort, but on his own terms. Voldemort had already hurt his family, the people he loved. _Love his family_. But Harry had to do it on his own terms. Every time Harry had just waited for Voldemort to come and that was what Dumbledore was doing, too. And now that Harry thought about it, how was he going to kill Voldemort or win this war by simply stunning and disarming people? He wasn't going to be able to. Harry had a feeling that he was a major player in this war and he believed he was either going to have to kill Voldemort and his allies or die trying. He was going to have to _kill his enemies. _He certainly needed everyone unaware, especially Voldemort, but he had a strange feeling that he needed Dumbledore unaware, too, since he certainly wouldn't approve of this, but Harry also thought that Dumbledore might try and stop him and he needed to _keep everyone at unawares._

"I understand," he said finally. He knew his father knew what he meant. He meant Harry understood what it meant to be a Potter.

"You are the Heir of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter, Gryffindor, and Peverell. Of course you understand."

They sat in silence while Harry processed everything. Finally he said, "What do you mean 'heir'?"

James ran a hand through his hair, "Do you know your full name?"

Harry looked at James as though he was crazy. "Um, yes."

"What is it?"

Harry decided to humor him and said, "Harry James Potter."

"No."

"What?" Harry asked, alarmed. "What do you mean that's not my full name?"

"Calm down, fawn," James placated. "It is a tradition in the House of Potter for first name to be long so you have a nickname, then your middle names be after your father, grandfather, grear-grandfather and your mother's maiden name. I am Lord Jameson Charlus Andrew Richard Black Peverell-Gryffindor-Potter."

Harry was trying to count all of the names on his fingers. "That's eight names!" he cried.

James grinned mischievously and put an arm around Harry's shoulders. "And you, my son, are Harlow Jameson Charlus Andrew Evans Peverell-Black-Moon-Potter, Heir to the Most Noble and Ancient Houses of Potter, Peverell, Moon, Black, and Gryffindor, scion of the Most Noble and Ancient Houses of Finnigan, Dagworth-Granger, Weasley, and Prewett."

"WHAT!" Harry yelled. "What does_ that _mean?"

"It means you will be heir to five noble houses and will be Lord when the Head of House dies and hold seats for four more houses, holding nine seats on the Wizengamot." James said solemnly.

Harry mulled this over slowly. It was a lot to take in.

"So the Peverell, Gryffindor, and Potter ones are by birthright," Harry said slowly. "And the Finnigan, Dagworth-Granger, Weasley and Prewett are because we are holding them proxy."

"Because?" James prompted.

_Dad is testing me_, Harry realized. _I would've got all of these lessons as a child, but now I need to know them for when I take my place as lord. _Surprisingly, this didn't make Harry feel uncomfortable or squeamish at the thought of power and having to do public displays. He felt ready for it, like it was a part of him. _It is a part of me, _Harry concluded. _Power and money are things I was born into, and therefore am ready for. _Then it clicked.

"Because of financial problems or inappropriate marriages?" Harry said, gliding past that they married Muggles or Muggle-borns.

"Terrific," James praised.

"Okay, Dad. So I've still got two of nine houses left. I haven't even heard of the Moon family, and though we are members—very barely—of the Black family, Sirius is still around. How did I become heir to those Houses?" Harry wondered. He didn't know Sirius was a Lord. And who was this Moon character?

"The Moon House is another gray family. A very small one, barely able to scrape "the most noble and ancient" status," James explained. "Though not anti-Muggle or Muggle-born they sincerely hate what they call "half-breeds". Centaurs, merpeople, giants, and…werewolves."

_Werewolves? Surely not Remus!_ Harry thought.

"Remus John Lupin was born Romulus Jacob Moon, heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Moon," James said gravely. "His father was very outspoken against werewolves, which attracted the attention of Fenrir Greyback, a feral werewolf.

"Remus was five and walking at the edge of the woods during a full moon when he attacked," James whispered. "When his father and mother found out what happened, they kicked him out because of what he was. He went to go live with his Squib aunt and never saw his family again. They couldn't disown Remus because he was their only heir, but he is never able to attend the Wizengamot because of what he is."

"Those monsters," Harry ground out. "How dare they!"

"Exactly," James growled. "Anyway, when you were born, Remus made you his heir. So did Sirius. When Sirius ran away, his family couldn't actually disown him because he was their heir. Because you are Sirius' godson and also the Heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, Sirius blood and magically adopted you, making it legal for him to come and take away from anywhere, despite Ministry guidelines. Remus couldn't do it because he's a werewolf so he only magically adopted you. They're like…crazy uncles, would be the best way to say it, I think. But, since you are the heir and a member of the house, you have to follow the naming guidelines. So not only are you Harlow Jameson Charlus Andrew Evans Peverell-Black-Moon-Gryffindor-Potter, you are also Aries Sirius Black, Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black and Silvius Asher Moon, Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Moon."

Harry was touched that Sirius and Remus cared so much about him they would make him their heir. Though Harry was a bit disconcerted that he was a total of three different people.

Harry looked his father straight in the eyes and said, "The day just got weirder."

James nodded. "Indeed, it did. Let's go show you the castle, shall we? I need to show you your room."

The two Peverell-Gryffindor-Potters stood up and walked into the entrance hall of the castle.

**A/N: **Please tell me if anything doesn't make sense and I'll try to clarify for you! This chapter was a really detailed one and I'm not sure if I got the messages across.

**Up Next: **Voldemort wears some questionable clothing and we explore the castle.


	12. In Red

I have to apologize for practically abandoning this story - I really have no excuse.

**Margaret Luna Sullivan:** Thank you!

**Raven at Night:** I must admit, he is my favorite character to bash. He makes it so easy!

**Larka Rinna Luna**: George, I read somewhere Ginny's middle name was Molly.

**spellmugwump97**: Thank you! I really have no excuse for my three-month delay - at all - and I understand about Dumbledore. The first time I ever saw a Dumbledore-bashing fanfic I was thinking, "How could anyone bash him?" and then I read it. I'll admit I am a die-hard Dumbles basher; though I can see why people like him.

**D.A Member77**: Thanks so much!

**Cole the Demon Hunter:** Thanks! Neville will be around shortly, but Ginny, Ron, and Hermione won't be around for a while.

**faneka:** Harry isn't going to have a split personality in my story (though that would be a really, really cool story). Hermione may or may not be one of the Dagworth-Grangers. I have to work out a few kinks. :)

**Kai'ika95**: Thanks! I spent a lot of time looking for a suitable name for Harry. I got tired of Harold. I'm glad you like it!

**butterflyeyes20:** You'll see!

**ladysavay**: Again, I really don't have an excuse for my inactiveness. I actually have a plot here, and I can tell why it looks like I'm vamping. I want to get the insignificant things out of the way, first, (like in this chapter; the next will come quickly to make up for that) so I can focus more on the action. The problem is, I have so many people that I have to take the time to write their reactions and fill everyone in on their backstories.

**Twilighter786**: Thanks! I really always felt there was more to James and the Potters that JK didn't put on paper. I mean, the Marauder's Map is like a glorified spy device that must've taken at least a year to complete. It's way too complicated to just be used for pranking. I can understand why Remus and Sirius (one a Black, one a werewolf) would be so suspicious, but I think that James couldn't simply _that _suspicious unless he had cultivated it somewhere. I doubt that level of suspicion comes naturally. Also, some good James/Lily alive fics are: Star Enchantress's: The Return of the Father; Lady Geuna's: Charmed Curses; grand admiral chelli's: Harry Potter and the Dream Come True; Lady Taliesin's: The Track of a Storm; sUnKiSsT's: To Rise Again; elizia25000bc's Harry Potter and the Gift of the Superi; Because-I-Got-High's Apparation; the-writer1998's Prongs Rides Again; BrieflyDel's Prongs Rides Again and Triskelion's No Higher Praise. I'm pretty sure all of them are on my "Favorite Stories" list.

**Raven Potter Weasley:** You'll see! I'm actually playing with the idea of only having adult pairings (AL/FL, LE/JP), but I'll see how it works out. I have to say, I really liked the stories I've read with Susan as Harry's love interest. (Mind you, I've only read, like, three.) I liked on your profile when you pointed out the love potion with Molly; and also about JK's feminist streak. I really didn't notice some of the things until you pointed them out about Snape's character and his Marauder interactions. And he accuses the Marauders of being murderers! He was a Death Eater! The job description says you have to rape, torture, and kill; at least that's how I see it. I also thought that Remus' family had to be purebloods or at least buy into it because of what his father was saying for him to get bitten.

_Chapter Eleven_

_In Red_

Harry learned that Potters had a very weird sense of humor, one that happened to fit him quite well.

There was a grand staircase in the center of each floor, and spiral staircases in all the towers. That being said, no one besides a Potter and their invited guests could get past or up the staircases. Apparently, if anyone who wasn't invited tried to get in, they found themselves rolling down the staircase, out the door, and down the hill; with a lovely addition of being trussed up like a turkey and sent flying into the middle of the lake.

On the first floor, to the right of the entrance hall were the formal rooms. The formal dining room, ballroom, parlor, and what James called the 'decoy study', which was filled with meaningless and worthless books and instruments. ("To make it look like we are amazingly knowledgable and amazing. As we are, of course.") On the right of the entrance hall were the guest chambers, eleven rooms that varied on size and elegance ("Depending on whether you like the person or not," James explained).

Behind the staircase were the 'family rooms' as James put it. They included indoor greenhouses with lavender, which made Harry sneeze ("You can thank great-great-grandma Delia for that"), the laundry rooms, the kitchens, mead cellar, and the root cellar (all for the use of the house-elves), the infirmary, the armory where Harry was shocked to see bows-and-arrows, swords, daggers, and metal armor along with dragon hide armor, staffs, wands, and warding crystals ("Don't tell your mother I let you in here," James muttered).

"I'll be teaching you how to use these," James explained. "You'll pick two non-magical weapons and another magical weapon to go with your wand. After all, what's life without some friendly stabbing?"

They saw the family dining room and family parlor, which was apparently where they had slept last night. They also saw the family ballroom.

Up on the second floor were nicer guestrooms, which were outfitted with a sitting room and more lavish materials ("For people you like," James explained).

The third floor was entirely a gallery. A fourth (1/4) of the floor was The Hall of Potters, which were all moving portraits of every Potter since Ivor, with a golden name plate that had the name, nickname, birth, and death dates, along with where they were born, and notable accomplishments they had achieved. The second fourth (2/4) was displaying statues and relics. The third fourth (3/4) were spoils of war and nasty, macabre things that Harry would associate with a Dark family, but since they were a Gray family, Harry supposed, it was only natural. The last fourth (4/4) of the gallery was completely filled with jewels. Gems of all different colors and size hung on the wall, in cases, on pedestals, and piled in mounds.

Harry gaped. "What?"

"We put our valuable jewels in Gringotts," James explained. "These are just for show."

Harry was feeling a bit light headed after that.

The library took half of the fourth floor up. It housed everything from old newspapers to the latest Transfiguration texts to potions books by Morgana, Mordred, and Merlin to books on the Dark Arts.

"Hermione would love this," Harry chuckled.

"Is Hermione a redhead?" James asked curiously.

Harry stared at his father. "She's a brunette. Why?"

"Oh, never mind," came the quick reply.

There was also a large potions lab, a room filled with scrolls covered in ancient runes and ingredients and huge cauldrons. Another was nothing but slabs of rock, dummies, clothing, ancient scrolls and tomes, and household items like a clock and stove, which James told him was the Arithmancy lab.

"You create spells with Arithmancy," James explained. "The different substances are for testing the spell out."

There was a dim room filled with stars and planet models for an Astronomy lab. There was also another greenhouse for Herbology which James pulled Harry away from ("Dangerous plants…_what _was Dad thinking…my baby could get hurt…"), and a room with a large basin in it and vials of a fluidly white substance swirling around.

"The Memories of History chamber," James said, "Those are memories and a pensieve. You put the memory in a pensieve and you can view it."

The last place James pointed out was an overlarge study. "That's the real study. The one downstairs doesn't have anything of worth, but _this _one has ancient texts, another pensieve, comfortable chairs, a great view, and all sorts of special stuff."

The fifth floor was Harry's favorite. There were four sections: a dueling chamber that could change scenery and moving, fighting dummies for accurate practice. James again had another overprotective fit and dragged Harry away. There was also another Quidditch pitch, half-sized this time, but could change weather and conditions to practice flying. There was also a field for things like football, baseball, and rugby, but were mostly used for practicing with "Muggle weapons". The last section had a pseudo-forest, along with a large lake used for swimming and picnicking during the winter. From what Harry could see, there was also a tree house and a rope swing.

On the sixth floor were more rooms, but instead of guest rooms they were lavish family rooms, for family and family friends with studies, small libraries, nurseries, and walk-in closets. Some even had ponds, like on the fifth floor, but a smaller scale.

The seventh floor was a bestiary. There were hippogriffs, Abraxan horses, knarls, crups, demiguises, gnomes, fwoopers, runespoors, pixies, fairies, and nifflers. There were even unicorns and a family of phoenixes! They were all roaming around a chunk of the real forest, with actual trees and grass and sunlight. It even rained; there were ponds and even streams. It took up the entire floor, with only pathways around it, backed up to the walls. Glass walls cased it in; which made it look like a huge terrarium.

James explained the difference between the fifth floor and the seventh was that the fifth floor was a completely empty of living things and the trees and all the plants were all in stasis, which made it a pseudo-forest instead of a real one. On the fifth floor, the only _truly _alive things up there were the grass (which was some type of experimental no-sunlight-darkness-grow grass, where the trees needed actual sunlight).

James also explained that the creatures on the seventh floor were all rescues and friends of the Potters. They treated the animals with respect and kindness and let them stay in the bestiary, protected. In return, the animals would give them their valuable horns, hair, feathers, and general by-products.

Harry had wanted to go in there, but James held a tight grip around his shoulders.

"Over my dead body you go in there, Harry James Potter," James said in a low voice. "You could get hurt, or burned, or bitten, or…"

James was babbling and Harry sarcastically suggested, "Or die?"

"Exactly!" James seemed genuinely pleased that Harry was grasping this fact so quickly. Harry vaguely what it would be like living with four madmen.

James dragged Harry back down the stairs to the sixth floor and to a tower situated in the northeast corner. Where a door would be, there was a large portrait of a forest at full moon, with a brown stag, a black dog, and a silver wolf running through the woods, playing and racing each other. The stag and the dog were as big as bears, but the wolf was the size of a baby elephant. Suddenly, there were some changes to it. A doe and a fawn came out of woods. The doe was white and brown with a reddish tint to it, with a white belly and white spots where the brown and white met. It also had emerald green eyes, bright and shining in the moonlight. She was standing protectively near the fawn.

The fawn was the same brown as the stag, but with white dots all over his coat and a tan belly that told you he hadn't reached adulthood yet. He had green eyes like the doe, but they were a dark green like the forest pine instead of her emerald green. Surprisingly, he didn't have a lightening bolt scar, but did have charcoal black markings around his eyes where Harry's glasses would've been. He had stubs for antlers and large ears that were almost bigger than his face. He was lithe and strong like the stag, but the fawn was still young. Though he seemed to dislike the over-protectiveness, he still needed it; he was still only as big as a German Shepard.

The wolf, dog, and stag turned towards the two newcomers. The stag immediately went over and stood with the doe in front of the fawn, but the dog and wolf simply joined in their protectiveness, the dog picked the fawn up by the scruff of the neck and carried him over to the where the wolf was now lying down. He plopped the fawn down, and wolf licked the fawn's head. The dog lay down contentedly next to it. The doe and stag both look disgruntled and irritated that their fawn had been taken from them, but the stag and doe both laid down in front of the wolf, dog, and fawn, putting their necks over the fawn's, effectively forming a circle around the fawn. The fawn seemed upset, but the stag nudged him and he put his head down, falling asleep.

Harry gazed, openmouthed at the portrait. He turned to his father. "Did you—?"

A faint blush appeared on James' cheeks. "The dog, stag, and wolf was my portrait. The doe and fawn—that's new. Don't look at me like that, I didn't! Anyway, this your tower."

Harry choked. "Tower?"

"The heir's tower," James said, ignoring Harry's disbelief. "You have to choose a password for the portrait so that only friends will get in. Something Death Eaters or unfriendly people and unwanted visitors won't get in," James snickered. "I remember the passwords I made were so bad that Mum stopped coming up to get me and just sent a house-elf."

Harry laughed and thought for a moment.

"No unwanted visitors, huh?" he asked thoughtfully. Then he leaned over to the portrait and said, _"Voldemort is a snake-faced bastard who looks good in red and will ultimately bow down to the Marauders and co. before drowning in a bathtub while wearing pink lingerie and getting in on it with Snape."_

James faintly green. "That is the longest password I have ever heard, but I promise you will have no Death Eaters or mothers knocking on your door."

Harry grinned at his father while watching the portrait. The stag, dog, and wolf all discreetly winked at him before the portrait slid open. Harry walked up a couple of steps and gasped.

He was in a circular room, with vaulted ceilings that rose thirty feet and were draped in red and gold, making it look like a tent, and there was also a scarlet carpet with red trimming on the floor. Bookshelves filled the walls, eight feet tall, leaving crown molding where the ceilings started to slope.

There were three doors in the room. One faced south, which was the exit through the portrait, and another faced west, leading to a spiral staircase. One faced east, leading up two steps to another room Harry couldn't see from this vantage point.

Between the south and west doors was a large fireplace, and over the mantle hung a portrait of the corridor outside the tower. ("For making sure no one knows what you're up to," James explained. Then his eyes narrowed, "Don't you dare use that on us, Harlow.") There was a mahogany coffee table, two squashy scarlet armchairs and a leather couch, filled with pillows and fluffy blankets.

Between the south and east doors was a large alcove with a professional-looking desk and high-backed, oak-carved chair with a red-leather seat that was standing in front of a large scarlet and gold stain-glass window. It was stacked with quills, ink, and parchment. There was a stand next to it with a cauldron on it and shelves filled with potion ingredients. A parchment was nailed to the wall, ten feet long, where you could write in the name of a potion and the instructions would come up.

Directly across from the exit, all the way at the back of the room, was a four-poster bed. The bedposts were carved with scenes, upon closer inspection, turned out to be battle scenes, and there was gold leafing on the head and footboards. It had scarlet and gold bedding: scarlet silk sheets that were turned down and the golden comforter had the Potter family crest stitched on it. There were fluffy scarlet and golden pillows and the scarlet curtains were tied back with golden ties.

Upon further exploration he found the door that led up two stairs was actually a walk-in closet, the size of an average bedroom. There was a fireplace and two armchairs opposite the door—though Harry couldn't imagine why they were there—there were racks of clothes, like in a store, sorted into sections: _casual robes, dress robes, Quidditch robes, school robes, dueling robes, pants, shirts, battle armor…_

There was a spiral staircase in the corner of the closet (Harry had a hard time thinking of this as a closet) that led down to the bathroom. It looked more like a pool, with its huge golden bath, and hundreds of different taps and black marble floor, ceiling, and walls. All the taps were accented in gold and there were fluffy, scarlet towels.

The door that lead to the spiral staircase lead to an owlery. It was filled with hanging golden perches and a large basin of food that sat in the middle. There were only about three owls, a black owl, a barn owl, and an aged snowy white owl.

James blinked, looking at the aged white owl and exclaimed, "Midnight!"

Harry stared as Midnight flew to James and cuffed him around the head with his wing. "You named your _snowy white owl _Midnight?"

"Not _my _owl," James grumbled. "Bloody pigeon is Lily's - OW!"

Midnight had landed on James' shoulder, only to dig his talons in deeply. As James swatted away the bird irritably (which only infuriated it more, nipping at James until he took leave out the window) Harry laughed, but it quickly died down.

"Dad…this is great…I mean, I'm really grateful, but I don't really deserve—"

James cut him off by wrapping him in a hug. "Being my son is more than enough reason to deserve a loving family, a nice room, and well-cooked meals. Do you understand me, fawn?"

Harry nodded and buried his head in James' shoulder.

"Go get dressed and meet us at the study—wait! I forgot! Misjiff!"

A small elf popped into the room. He had the signature green skin, tennis ball eyes, and floppy ears, but he was bouncing so fast he could give Dobby a run for his money. He had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that told everyone he was up to no good.

"A house-elf," Harry said, surprised. He supposed he shouldn't be, with the size of this castle. Who else would take care of it? The elf didn't look anywhere like Dobby had been. He looked healthy and happy, with a downy scarlet towel with the Potter family crest emblazoned on it.

"Have you seen one before?" James asked curiously. "This is your personal elf, Misjiff. There are house-elves for cooking, cleaning, gardening, etcetera. But Misjiff will accompany you to places like Diagon Alley, Gringotts, clean your room, and generally help you dress and run your errands. Kind of like a manservant."

"Wow," said Harry, bemused. Then he turned to Misjiff. "Hello, Misjiff. I'm Harry."

Misjiff bounced excitedly. "Misjiff knows Master Harry, Misjiff is beings a good elf! Misjiff is to serve Master and do as he wishes! Happy, happy, happy he is!"

His voice hit an unearthly pitch near the end and Harry winced while James chuckled.

"Whoa," Harry rubbed his ears. "He reminds me of Dobby."

"Dobby?" James asked curiously.

"A house-elf I freed," Harry snickered. "Dobby was abused and kept trying to help keep me safe, even if it meant going against his masters, the Malfoys. In the end I tricked them into freeing Dobby."

"Why would you need to be protected?" James asked, seemingly lightly, but there was an edge of apprehension in his voice.

Harry paused. He wasn't sure he really wanted to tell his dad right now. "Er…I'll tell you later," he said quickly.

James nodded in acceptance, but there was a look of slight suspicion on his face. James changed the subject.

"How did he live? House-elves are supposed to die after they're freed, or at least become severely sick," James frowned.

_Crack._

"Did Harry Potter sir call Dobby? Does Harry Potter want Dobby as his elf?"

Harry and James spun around to face a very odd house-elf. He had Harry's old sock on his foot, a bobble hat on his head, and what looked like a child's denim jacket.

"Dobby?" Harry asked, confused. "What do mean 'as my elf'?"

Dobby looked at his feet, twisting his ears.

"Dobby is a bad elf," he muttered, "Bad Dobby!" He moved to bash his head on the coffee table, but Harry yelled, "Dobby, stop punishing yourself!"

Dobby stopped immediately and James laughed, finally realizing what happened.

"Harry," James said. "I think when you freed Dobby he bonded to you," James smiled at the odd elf. When Harry gave him an strange look, and James explained, "A bond means he recognizes you as his master and his line is now bonded to your family line. Now you have to accept the bond, if you want to. Otherwise he'll die, or get severely sick and lose his magic."

"Of course I will," Harry said, some apprehension forming in his mind. _Like slaves…like how I was at the Durlseys…_ "I won't let Dobby die!"

Dobby's eyes filled with happy tears. "Harry Potter is a kind wizard!"

"How do I solidify the bond?" Harry asked James, shoving his worries aside for now. He'd make sure Dobby felt like part of the family.

"Say, 'I—your full name—hereby take Dobby as my house-elf and bond him to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter. So mote it be.'" James said.

Harry strained to remember his full name. "I, Harlow Jameson Charlus Andrew Evans Peverell-Black-Moon-Gryffindor-Potter, hereby take Dobby as my house-elf and bond him to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter. So mote it be."

A golden light swirled around Harry and suddenly Dobby was adorned in a Potter house-elf uniform.

"Master Harry is too kind!" Dobby wailed.

Harry looked slightly stunned with this and James took control of the situation, smiling kindly at Dobby, "Of course, Dobby. Misjiff, can you take Dobby and introduce him to the head house-elf and get him assigned a position?"

Misjiff bobbed up and down. "Come with Misjiff, Dobby!" Misjiff popped out, with Dobby not long behind, both with one final bow to their masters.

James chuckled. "Those are two very strange house-elves. Wait here," James instructed, running up into the dressing room. He sprinted back down seconds later and gently took off Harry's broken glasses. He handed Harry a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. "They're magical glasses," James explained. "I have a pair. They have night-vision, no scratch, no-break, never fall off unless you take them off or you fall into natural sleep or let someone take them off, and automatically keep up with your prescription."

Harry slid on the new glasses, which adjusted to his eyes perfectly, fitting his prescription a lot better than his old ones had. Apparently his eyes had gotten worse.

"Dad…thanks," Harry looked his father in the eyes. A lot went into that thanks that wasn't said, but James just frowned and wrapped him another hug.

"You don't have to say thank you, fawn," James whispered. "This is what someone should've been doing all along for you. Me, your mum, your Uncle Moony and Padfoot are just doing our jobs."

They pulled apart and Harry once again felt reassured by his parent's presence. James turned to the exit and the portrait slid open. "Get dressed, fawn, and ask for Misjiff to burn your fat whale of a cousin's old clothes. I won't have my son reminded of those bastards."

Harry grinned at his father, but there was a melancholy undertone about the Dursleys. Still, not letting it dampen his mood, he jumped up the stairs to the dressing room and stripped off the rags he was wearing, throwing them on the ground. Harry frowned and looked around, trying to select the most non-seventies apparel he could find. The end result was black trainers, jeans, a Puddlemere United t-shirt under casual, open-front, navy blue robes.

"Misjiff?" he called furtively, wondering if it would work.

There was _crack _and Misjiff appeared right in front of Harry. He bowed, "Yes, Master Harry?"

Harry grinned. "Misjiff…" he started. "I don't suppose you can travel outside of Potter Castle?"

Misjiff bobbed his head up and down. "Yes, Master Harry."

"Or duplicate things?"

"Yes, Master Harry."

"Or make people believe that what they see is something else?"

"Yes, Master Harry."

Harry had a hard time smothering his big ass grin. He handed the Dudley's rags and James' old clothes to Misjiff.

"Dumplestorffs made Master Harry wear rags?" Misjiff gaped. "Dumplestorffs not fit to lick Moldywart's scaly behind!" He picked up James' old clothes with disgust. "These is hurting Misjiff's eyes, Master Harry. Crime against eye-kind, these is, Master Harry."

Harry snorted in laughter. "Okay, Misjiff, here's what I want you to do…"

As Harry walked out of his chambers and down to the Grand Staircase to what he dubbed the "educational" floor, his big ass grin never faded once. Who ever said revenge was bad? Revenge was _fun. _He wasn't even physically hurting the Dumplestorffs - sure, their pride may be wounded, but who cared?

Harry's grin widened so much his lips nearly split in half. He would have to do this more often.

He opened the oaken door to the study, only to find his parents, Sirius, and Remus staring open-mouthed at six unmoving figures lying in various positions on the floor. To Harry's complete disbelief, one of them was—

"_Neville?_"

* * *

><p>Lily carefully treaded to the study. She had a taken refreshing shower and Daisy, her house-elf, had twirled her hair into a sturdy but magnificent bun. Her lavender over-robes, white blouse and ankle-length skirt were comfortable. Her Ladys' rings glistened on her fingers, one for Potter, one Peverell, and one Gryffindor. Her wedding rings, one with two interloping golden bands with rubies and emeralds studded in them, and the other with a emerald and ruby twirled together slightly set on top on the ring. A necklace made of white-gold with a flower made out of amethyst shone on her chest and a bracelet jingled on her wrist.<p>

All was fitting for Lady Potter-Gryffindor-Peverell.

She had been to Potter Castle before, lived there for two years, before they had had to go into hiding. _Dumbledore _had suggested they hide somewhere else. She clenched her fist so hard she drew blood.

Sirius and Remus had told her that there was something she needed to see on the scan she took. Lily was worried. What could it possibly be? Harry couldn't be cursed or anything, could he? Lily wasn't quite yet used to parenting a teenager; she was still only twenty-one herself, like James. However, that didn't mean she didn't love Harry or was going to let him run wild. She was going to try and be the best parent she could, even with her young age. It was strange for Lily to see her baby boy all grown up. Thankfully, during her pregnancy, she had gotten so overwhelmed she demanded James and her plan at all the rules, lessons, and expectations they would give Harry when he got older to the letter.

Lily figured her young age might even be helpful in some senses. She (unfortunately) remembered her teenage years like yesterday, so it was possible she connect on a closer level to him than if she was thirty-four.

_Of course, there is another option…_Lily squashed that thought immediately. _That _was not a possibility, it was selfish to use something so rare just to get to know her son.

Lily entered the study. It was a magnificent room, about as big as an average school gym, with mahogany bookcases that stood up to the ceiling and covered the east, south, and west sides of the room. The large double doors in the middle of the wall interrupted the west side, and the north wall had a large bay window that took up three-fourths of the wall. It had a window seat with a scarlet-and-gold velvet cushion.

Against the east wall stood the desk, a mahogany table with intricate carvings of the battles Potters had won. It was magically enchanted, every time a Potter won a battle (everything from duels to elections to battling depression), it would automatically be added on to the front of the desk, the other pictures shifting back. If there were too many carvings, the old ones shifted to a new piece of furniture (on the wood). By now, just about every piece of furniture in the castle was covered in carvings. Even some pieces in Potter Manor and Potter Bunker were.

The desk was filled with quills, parchment, and silver, spindly instruments. There was a golden perch next to it, where Midnight was already standing. The chair was high-backed and mahogany, carved like the desk with a red leather seat. In the corner behind it was a spiral staircase that was hidden neatly and practically invisible to anyone if you weren't standing right next to it.

There were groups of armchairs and tables against the most used sections of the bookcases, all stocked with parchment, quills, and ink.

On the south wall, a fireplace the size of a small car was brimming with magical golden flames, a mirror the size of an average window hung above the white-gray marble mantle. A couch, a love-seat (both red velvet), and three gold velvet armchairs sat facing the fireplace, surrounding a mahogany coffee table.

In the center of the room, close to the back of the couch a long, mahogany table ran, about the size of a dining room table. The head faced the desk and the end the door with about a good thirty feet in between each the table and the door or desk. There were claw-footed mahogany chairs with red velvet cushions; fourteen in all, two at the heads and six down each side.

The table was empty at the moment, but Lily knew that it would soon be filled with plans; battle plans, goals, schematics, layouts of houses, diagrams, and reports. _We'll rid the world of you both, _Lily thought fiercely. _Voldemort _and_ Dumbledore._

The decision to take action against Dumbledore and Voldemort had been decided before Harry left on the tour of the castle. Dumbledore had violated the Three Values, and Voldemort had also. _Dumbledore reckons Voldemort's coming back, _Sirius had said, _the old coot is off his manipulative arse, that's for sure. But this…this he's got right._

_You won't be in any more trouble, Harry, _Lily thought intensely_, I know I can't go against the Prophecy, but I'll sure as hell make sure you kick both their arses!_

"Lily?" Remus called, walking in. He was wearing a white, button-up shirt and black pants, and a silver over-robe with the Moon family crest on it: a silver 'M' over a white crescent moon crossed with a silver dagger with a gold hilt. On the hilt was the family motto, _Tantum digne naturalis_. Lily didn't know what it meant, but it sent chills up her spine. Remus always got a kick out of wearing the crest; he said his parents would've had a fit. Lily could tell he was hurt by their betrayal, he - like Sirius - hid any sorrow they had under a mask.

"Lils? We need to show you something," Sirius said, walking in holding a scroll. Sirius looked more somber than Remus; something Lily always found disconcerting: that Sirius Black would be any less than buoyant. He was wearing black pants, a gray, button-up shirt, and black over-robes with gray embroidery and piping, sporting the Black family crest: two Grims, holding their claws and snarling, profile on each side of a black shield with a gray, horizontal stripe. A wand lay vertical on it, shooting three gray stars. Underneath read the family motto: _Tojours Pur._

It made Lily slightly sick just looking at it.

"Sirius? Remus? I'm right here," she called, coming over to the door. "What is it? Is it about Harry?" she asked, panicking slightly.

Sirius and Remus exchanged glances.

"Let's wait until James gets here," Remus said carefully.

Lily frowned slightly. James had been very upset about something all morning, ever since that nightmare. Harry hadn't noticed it; he hadn't been around his father enough _to _know when something was wrong. That fact alone made Lily want to curse something.

It was quite obvious: James had been especially overprotective of Harry this morning. He had sat close to him and practically held his hand through out breakfast. Granted, Lily had basically done the same, but…

Something was wrong, very wrong.

James walked in, not five minutes later; as Lily, Sirius, and Remus settled into the armchairs near the fire. James sat on the love-seat next to Lily, wearing black pants, wearing a red button-up shirt that clashed rather horribly next to his golden over-robe that sported the Potter family crest.

"Good, you're here, James," Lily said, as he kissed her cheek. "Remus and Sirius have something to tell us." James looked curiously at the scroll and then his face muscles tightened, realizing what it was. He had forgotten about that.

"It's about the scan," Sirius said without preamble. "Look."

Lily took the scroll, looking at where Sirius had highlighted in red when she froze in shock, horror, and blindsided terror.

_Basilisk venom._

_Basilisk venom._

_Basilisk venom._

The world seemed strangely blank as she stared at the scroll unseeingly. The two traitorous words bounced around her head like kids in a bounce house, over and over again, their meaning coming less and less clear each bounce.

They danced, flipped, and cartwheeled in her foggy mind, leering and laughing at her. The sting of the words was almost as venomous as the poison itself, seeping into her muddled mind; each second every letter took on a new meaning and she scarce believe she would hear the damned words and not faint with fright.

As a Healer, Lily knew her poisons. Mild poisons, deadly poisons, slow-acting poisons, fast-acting poisons, animal poisons; just about any you could name, Lily knew the ingredients and how to cure to it.

But, there was one poison that a cure was never found.

It was the most deadly poison there was, it killed within three minutes and literally set fire to the blood, turned bones to ashes, and muscles to jelly. No one had been known to survive it; even the person who slew the last basilisk in living history was killed right after because of the poison. Rumor was that phoenix tears could cure the venom, but no one could harvest phoenix tears. They had to be given willingly, the same thing with basilisk venom.

And her son, _her _son, her _son _got bit by that _monster_.

_That _meant that he had to be near a basilisk.

"_Basilisk?" _Lily squeaked, her voice not coming out at all as she had meant it to. James rubbed soothing circles on her back, which was helping, but she could hear him audibly grinding his teeth together. _"BASILISK!"_

"_I _think we should ask Harry," Remus suggested, though in the depths of his eyes Lily could see he was as shaken as she was. "He's coming down soon, and obviously alive."

The fact that her son could be anything _less _than alive burst Lily's temper.

"_BASILISK! WHAT ON EARTH IS MY SON DOING NEAR A—DAMNED—BASILISK?"_ Lily roared, punctuating the last three words with curses aimed near the floor, leaving scorch marks. At the moment, she could care less, but she knew after she calmed down she would have a fit of self-scolding.

Before she could continue her rant, a funnel of golden light started to form, right between the end of the table and the door. She paused to look at it, her curiosity getting the better of her. The Marauders looked, too, and they picked their way over quietly. Before they could do anything, though, the light exploded.

The four shielded their eyes and backed against the door, watching from behind their arms as six figures came spinning out of the light and landing on the floor with an almighty _thud._ They all lowered their hands, shocked, but grabbed their wands warily. Before anything could happen, the door creaked open and Harry walked in behind the four of them.

"_Neville?" _asked her son's voice in shock.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or JKR's works.

Next up:

_Confusion of the Century_


	13. Confusion of the Century

_Chapter Twelve_

_The Confusion of a Century_

Neville Longbottom, was by all means, a simple boy.

Sure, being the heir to a very wealthy pureblood family and to become a lord at age seventeen was not what one might consider normal, but looking past all that, Neville was a simple boy.

That wasn't to say Neville was stupid; far from it; in fact, he was a Herbology prodigy. He did all sorts of experiments with plants; changing their growth habits, increasing their seed capacity, experimented with substitute fertilizations, and had even successfully created three new species of reproducing plants. No, Neville Longbottom was not a stupid boy by any means.

Neville was a boy who enjoyed the little things and simplicity of life. He enjoyed the sunrise and that his bed was comfy and playing Exploding Snap and marmalade on toast. Neville liked relaxing on picnic blankets on the Hogwarts' lawns while reading Herbology books on days off. He generally had a very bland life, but that was the way he liked it. Simple, unlike some summer Potions essays he had.

Neville left the dramatics and world-saving stunts to his (well, he liked to think _friend_) roommate, Harry Potter. Whenever Harry would go on about Voldemort and his traps and death ("It's the end, Ron," Harry had said sadly, "This one trap is going to do me in. It's been good, mate." And "We're doomed! We're going to our deaths; I can't let you get hurt. If I do," he sighed dramatically, "I could never forgive myself. I'll go alone.") Neville couldn't help but snicker at his dramatic nature with a strange feeling of déjà vu; like a half-forgotten memory. He had that a lot, but he couldn't help but feel that something…_strange _had happened on the night when his parents had been—_disposed. _Neville never liked to think about his parents, it brought too many thoughts…mostly of helplessness, remorse, and partially hidden memories and feelings. And guilt. Lots of guilt.

Neville knew he really couldn't have done anything, but he still felt responsible for his parents' incarceration. He knew Harry felt the same for his parents' death, and Neville knew Harry couldn't've done anything; and therefore, by that confusing and illogical logic, Harry was innocent, and Neville in almost the same circumstance, was innocent, too.

But it still hurt.

Nevertheless, Neville never wanted anything more in life than a comfortable bed, good food, his wand, and a greenhouse to tend to plants. He generally didn't have anything unusual happen to him. The only times something unusual _did _happen was when Harry Potter was involved.

But Neville couldn't be irritated, not really. Something more like an amused exasperation. But, for whatever reason, he always tried to help (or _stop _Harry. Honestly, sometimes that boy had no self-preservation or logic) him. He felt bound to, almost responsible for him. Neville knew that Lily Potter had been his godmother, and Alice was Harry's, but it was something different than that. He knew Harry did the same thing for him. But it was different. It was like…_family. _He never brought that up, of course. He wasn't even really a friend to Harry (not that he wasn't nice, Harry was just usually with Ron). They were technically godbrothers, but Dumbledore had asked him not tell Harry, to make Harry distrustful of him, like he was vying for fame. Neville understood that and gave him space.

So, back to the point.

Neville, being a simple boy, did not generally get magical letters that ended up being portkeys vaulting them possibly half-way across the world to some unknown location. Neville had no clue what to think or do. Strange and weird things like this were usually Harry's forte.

"_Neville?"_

Neville blinked blearily, trying to his surroundings. He was laying face down, his face pressed down into a rather plushy carpet. The room smelled rather musty, like it hadn't been used for a while, but the clear scents of pine and heather filled the room.

Neville sat bolt upright. He immediately wished he hadn't. He felt sick and his head was spinning. Neville's vision swam, and he saw a blurry outline of someone walk across the room to him. He squinted, and saw a shock of messy black hair.

"Harry?" he asked, astonished. What was happening?

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, giving him a hand. Neville was hoisted to his feet and swayed dangerously. Harry steadied him and Neville took a good look around the room.

They were in a large study, at least as large as the one at Longbottom Lodge, and seemed to be decked out entirely in gold and red. Neville blinked again. This room, he decided, was _way _to bright. Gold and scarlet seemed to glaring at him from every corner of the room, and it was _not _helping his dizziness.

Neville chanced a glance out the large window, trying to find a familiar landmark, but there only seemed to woods and mountains as far as the eye could see. _Pine, heather, and rowan…_The smells of Scotland! Being a Herbologist, Neville could identify some places by the smell of its native plants alone. _Specific places, _Professor Sprout had once told him, _have specific plants. It's easy to identify some places by the smell of the plants, to ascertain where you are, by smell alone. _Hogwarts, being in Scotland, had those scents blowing in the wind all the time.

"Where are we in Scotland?" Neville cut across Harry abruptly, which had him blinking in confusion.

"Um—" he glanced over to the doorway, where four adults were standing.

"About twenty miles outside of Hepburn Wood," one of the men supplied. Neville blinked, and looked at Harry and back again. He could've sworn he was seeing double, except this man was older and Harry had a much better sense of fashion. "What are you doing here? What's your name?"

Looking at Harry, who nodded in encouragingly, he answered, "I don't know. We—my Gran and I—were eating breakfast when note appeared out of thin air. It told us that 'it was time to meet some old friends' or something like that and then we appeared here. Oh, and I'm Neville Longbottom."

The four adults blinked, and the woman asked incredulously, "Not—not Alice and Frank's son?"

"Yes," he said uncertainly.

Almost as in response, two more people stirred on the floor. It was a man and a woman; and the woman, like Neville, had shot up, waking (what appeared to be) her husband.

"Frankie!" she hissed, lugging him to his feet. She, apparently, did not have any motion-sickness qualms. "Frankie, look! Where are we?"

Neville froze, looking at the woman. She had short, curly, light brown hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a round face. She was wearing some outlandishly sparkly, light-blue robes with teeteringly tall yellow high-heels and topaz jewelry to complete the look.

The man, groaning, stumbled when he got up, had on simple, dark olive green over-robes on top of black pants and white button-up shirt. He had black, straight hair that flopped in his honey-colored eyes. He was a little more than six foot, and all but towered over the tiny witch of five-two.

Neville knew them. He had seen them before, practically catatonic; not aware of their surroundings, too absorbed in their own minds. They had worn bathrobes and tottered around like drunkards, treated like children; having recessed so far into their own minds. But these people…they were so…_different._

They were so alive, with eyes that saw and minds that thought. They had personalities to share; they didn't just follow commands, they knew how to function. These people were brimming with stories and feelings to share; these people knew their son. They knew _him._

And suddenly, for all the wishing and hoping and pleading that Neville had done when he was young - crying late at night into his pillow - he didn't want that.

The man, Frank (hisfather!), interrupted his train of thought, "The gold and red are making me blind, we appear to be in the middle of nowhere, there's a Quidditch pitch the size of Asia, and the man standing in the doorway looks like he robbed a goddamned disco ball. We're in Potter Castle."

"Hey!" The-man-who-looked-like-Harry-but-had-no-fashion-sense huffed.

"You know it's true, James," Alice smirked. "How'd you come back from the dead?" she asked casually. Then she froze. "James?" She stuttered. "Lily? But—but—that—how—?"

Frank didn't seem concerned at the moment. He was staring directly at Neville. Neville looked at the floor, self-consciously. For everything he had wished for as a child, he felt very uncomfortable. His Gran had told him great stories about the famous Auror duo, Frank and Alice Longbottom. How amazing they were, and outshined every other Auror. The only ones that could even compete with them was the infamous trio of Aurors, made up of James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin. They brought good fortune, wealth, and fame on the family.

Neville, in comparison, did nothing but bring shame on his family. He was practically a squib, tripped over everything, and barely scraped and 'A' in every class he took. The only thing he remotely excelled in was Herbology, and that was because he didn't need a wand.

His Gran, when in fits of rage, whenever he did something wrong, would often tell him his parents would be ashamed. Mentally, he would always vehemently deny this fact; but, after the scolding, Neville would sometimes wonder if it was true. Neville hoped not, but somehow, he felt as if what he did was never enough.

Standing there, in front of his parents, he felt very small. He stared at the floor as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, hoping to Godric his parents were preoccupied enough with the Potters—who seemed to have come back to life—not to notice him. Right now, he didn't care about the Potters' currently alive state; he was far too worried about his parents.

Harry looked extremely confused, and Neville reminded himself that Harry didn't know what happened to his parents. He did, however, give Neville an encouraging smile. Neville didn't return the gesture; his stomach tied into tight knots as he continually stared at the floor, wishing to sink into it.

He could feel his father's eyes on him and blatantly refused to look upwards. He couldn't help but feel the slightest bit angry at his parents, for leaving him at such a young age with someone who would continuously remind him that what he did was never good enough. For _being _a continuous reminder he wasn't good enough. It was irrational, it was foolish, but those thoughts did nothing to sooth the angry rebellion in his chest.

_You want me to be good enough for my parents, Gran? _Neville asked inwardly, rebellion and resentment rising up inside him. _Fine. They can ask _me _first._

* * *

><p>Frank looked at the boy who had, for the past ten minutes, been staring at the ground as if it contained the meaning of existence. His son. <em>His son. <em>Frank hadn't got a good look at his face, his head was bowed, but he was a good five inches taller than the Potter boy. Mind you, James' kid was a scrawny little thing.

He was about a head shorter than Neville, pale, and sickly looking. Frank couldn't imagine a child of James and Lily looking that bad. He looked like he was recovering from a recent torture session. Still, he stood strong although he was swaying slightly where he stood, half-leaning against Neville and the couch, his eyes fluttering somewhat.

Neville didn't seem to notice, his gaze still at the floor, while the Potter boy's eyes searched Frank, Neville, and Alice, (who was still demanding answers from the Potters) looking for some sort of connection.

Harry was a spitting imagine of a younger, sicker-looking James. He had James' shaggy black hair that stood up in the back, hung slightly in his eyes, reached the base of his neck and fell over the tips of his ears. He had James' straight nose, and the same large-but-inconspicuous ears. He had James' crooked eyebrows, too; one eyebrow that looked like it was always raised in an impish, mischievous fashion.

He had Lily's eyes, though. And even then, the brilliant emerald was shattered by thousands of flecks of hazel, the green shimmering on the surface of brown; like James was peeking through Lily's façade, trying to break out.

Frank remembered the adoption rituals the Potters had done. He was technically Remus' son by magic and Sirius'ss by magic and blood, also. In fact, he could see Sirius'ss high, aristocratic cheekbones and sharp jaw jutting through. It also seemed he had somehow inherited Remus' rather lupine smile, though James' crooked one hung there also, making the smile slightly intimidating and very roguish.

Frank knew he was distracting himself, though. He had always been a skilled Occlumens, but he could never lie to himself. He was distracting himself from looking at Neville.

From what meager memories he had of his incarceration, he knew Neville would visit Alice and he. He could never properly remember what he said, but he felt inordinately ashamed he could not have watched his son grow up. He was angry with himself, with the Death Eaters, Voldemort, Dumbledore, and just about anyone.

And it hurt to see that Neville must be angry with him, too; but he didn't blame him. He _couldn't _blame him. He was his son.

"Frankie?" Alice called, looking over her shoulder, apparently having gotten a reasonably decent explanation from the Potters. "Frankie, what—?" She stopped dead, her mouth hanging open and her eyes filling with tears.

That was a rare feat. Alice Smith was not one to cry. She had not cried when her mother died, or when her father remarried, when her stepsister left the family, or even when the Potters had died. The only two things that could make the firecracker break were her husband and son. Alice liked to keep up a strong front, but those two boys were the only ones who could break it down. Frank wasn't one to cry, either, but he was much less expressive. It was expected that he didn't cry. Alice, however, seemed to wear her heart on her sleeve for how animated she was.

"Neville," she sucked in a sharp breath, "oh, _Neville."_

Frank simply nodded, an uncomfortable lump in his throat.

Neville looked up sharply, and all his parents could do was stare.

Neville was a reasonable height, and seemed to be growing out of his baby fat stage. He was a mixture of both Alice and Frank, with his mother's curls and round face, but his father's inky black hair that flopped in front of his honey-colored eyes.

He wore dirt stained black pants and a button-up white shirt was rolled up to his elbows and his ankle-high dragonhide boots were covered in mud. Neville's pale skin was stark against the dirt smeared on his face in streaks where he had wiped it and his hands coated in earth. His chiseled jaw stood out; clenched, and his hands were fists balled at his sides. And his eyes made contact with Frank's akin ones. They sparkled like Alice's, but more with anger than anything else. A myriad of emotions swirled behind the anger; resentment, rebellion, and hurt burned in his ocher irises.

And it hurt. _It hurt so much. _Alice whimpered and clutched Frank's arm; who stood impassive, his heart breaking inside.

"You left me."

Neville's voice rang out and cut through the air that was already thick with tension. His voice was cold and bitter with an angry underlying layer of accusing hurt.

"You left me when I needed you."

And without another a word, Neville strode out of the room, the doors slamming behind him.

* * *

><p>It was a bright day at the Burrow. Sunlight streamed through the windows, glistened off the pond, and shone off the leaves and grass. Gnomes were quietly creeping through hedge, back into the back garden, explosions and sounds of tinkering came from the old garage, the sizzling of the stove and sloshing of water came from the kitchen as meaningless, friendly chatter and banter ran and bounced and echoed through the old, teetering house, giving it a lazy, familial, comforting feel.<p>

The patriarch of the house had taken refuge from the fullness (and general insanity) of his family in his shed, "messing around" with Muggle things as his wife often put it.

The matriarch of the house was currently cooking in the kitchen. She hummed to herself in the rare moment of peace in the middle of chaos as she added a bit oregano to her mix. Cooking was hobby of hers, something she often dabbled in, making her own recipes when her children (surrogate and actual) were in school or otherwise in occupied. She hoped to publish a cookbook, and she was on the fifth-to-last recipe. She was sure she had it—_just a bit more rosemary —_when—

BANG!

An entire sprig of rosemary fell into her project with a _splash_.

Sighing sadly, not surprised by the noises coming from her twin sons' room, but emboldened with her near-success, she hesitantly tasted. Yuck. _Much _less rosemary. Well, only a cooking connoisseur would really notice it. It actually didn't taste too bad. Letting it simmer, she moved on to start the sandwiches for lunch.

On the second floor, both Fred and George were sprawled out on there respective beds, laughing uproariously as their brother in all but blood, Lee Jordan, tried to wipe soot of his face and his singed dreadlocks.

"It's no use!" he grumbled sourly, ignoring the twins' laughter. "The Fainting Fancies made some kind of unremovable-soot! Oh, shut up," he added. "You weren't laughing too hard when you turned your—"

"We swore to never speak of it!" Fred yelped as George was renewed with another bout of laughter.

"—pink! It was pink for weeks!"

"Anyway," George said, wiping tears from his eyes after he calmed down a good five minutes later, "What I was talking about before Lee blew up our cauldron."

"Oh, hush up," Lee snapped, glaring at the offending piece of now-charred and melted metal.

"I was talking about Ron," George said, and the mood instantly changed to serious and attentive.

It had always been that way for the three of them. With such a big, spread apart family, the kids had divided into sections. Bill and Charlie would always play together, being only two years apart. Percy usually read by himself or hung around their father, when he was home from his full-time job at the Ministry. When he did play, he would play the two of them. Charlie and Percy had a slight rivalry, both wanting to be Bill's favorite. Bill, of course, did not choose either one, and the two eventually came to an understanding. (Ginny, the baby of the family, had eventually become his favorite.) Even so, Bill had been Charlie's inspiration for his dangerous job and Percy's for wanting to become Head Boy.

Fred and George typically played by themselves. They had each other, who else did they need? When Lee came along, they became best friends (more like "best brothers") at the age five.

Ginny was their mum's favorite. They couldn't doubt it. Their mother had essentially attached Ginny to her hip and they were always off doing "girl stuff". Since Ginny was only a year younger, Ron was usually left in the care of Bill, Charlie, or Percy, but basically alone as the three had other things to do.

Fred and George, by the time they were old enough to understand a baby's basic needs, had started to take care of just about all the tasks that Ron had; like feeding, putting him to bed, playing with him, and sometimes even clothing him. They had almost single-handedly raised Ron. They had been the overprotective but _totally _cool big brothers. When Ron was about two, when Lee had come around, he had helped them with Ron. The three of them had taught him to walk, to talk, to read, and even to fly. The three of them were like proud parents.

Ron was always their favorite brother. Ron, who had never been one for crying, had burst into tears when he was nine and they left for Hogwarts. He had been in awe with their letters, full of the wonders of the magical school and all the trouble they got up to.

They always kept an eye on Ron at Hogwarts. The three had especially done such as Ron and his two best friends, Harry and Hermione, had a habit of disappearing a strange moments and reappearing covered in injuries. Fred and George knew that teachers were supposed to send notes to the parents when children were injured, but it seemed that their mother never got them or ignored them. Ron, like Fred and George, had inherited an adventurous and somewhat mischievous nature that meant that he, like the twins, was just about always in trouble with their mother.

All of the Weasley children loved their mother, but Mrs. Weasley always to compare them to each other, except for Ginny. She was their mum's favorite, and in her eyes, could no wrong. Since their mother was the disciplinarian in the household, Ginny got away with just about anything. And just about anything the boys did could be outshined by a simple action by Ginny.

They all resented that fact slightly, or a lot, in Fred, George, and Ron's cases. It wasn't so much for Bill, Charlie, or Percy, that they were compared to each other, but mostly that their mother compared the three to the twins and Ron. That was why the three boys and Ginny were usually the recipients to most of their pranks.

Ron didn't mind so much. While he only pulled pranks in very extreme revenge situations, he thought it was all good fun. Ron would even give them suggestions on pranks to play or how to hide their actions better. It was, in fact, Ron's idea to raid Filch's office for items of mischievous nature.

Ron was also the only brother who completely supported them in their idea for the joke shop. While their parents didn't know of the nature of the explosions coming from their bedroom, all of their siblings did, with Ron being the first one to find out. Even Charlie, who had run off chasing dragons, and Ginny, who wanted to be a professional Quidditch player, had voiced their doubt in the twins' ambition. Ron had given them unconditional support and ideas. ("If there's one thing you two can do, it's prank. I mean, can you imagine yourselves sitting at a boring desk job in the Ministry?") He was the only one who could barge into the twins' room without fear of purple hair or…_other_ parts.

Ron was the only brother who would cover for them, no questions asked. The twins, of course, did the same for Ron. The twins' soft spot was Ron. They couldn't say no to Ron, just like Bill couldn't say no to Ginny. Of course, they would tease him and berate him afterwards for whatever stunt he pulled, but they would do it. The only time they would say no to Ron would be if it got him hurt.

"I was thinking," George said seriously, "About last year and all the fights Ron got into with Hermione and even Harry. I mean; we know he's a jealous prat. But we should talk to him. I think he's so caught up trying to outshine us, his brothers, Harry, or even Hermione, that he needs to do his own work."

Fred rolled over on his back and said thoughtfully, "We should tell him to pursue his _own _interests. That's were doing, right? And Ron's not exactly Curse-Breaker, dragon handler, joker-business man, Boy-Who-Lived, or Girl Genius material, is he?"

Lee tugged on a singed dreadlock. "Wasn't he always saying since he was like, seven, that he wanted to be an Auror? We could tutor him or something. If he does want to still be one, or something else, even, we should tell him he should start studying for whatever subject he wants to do. I mean, even we had to hit the books," Lee shuddered in horror at the memories of the—_gulp_—library and Fred blinked rapidly to clear the tears gathering in his eyes, "for us to make all this merchandise."

"Unfortunately true," George sniffed sadly. "We should talk to him before ickle Harrikins shows up. When—?"

Suddenly, the door flew open and banged against the wall, cutting George off.

"I've got a great idea!" came a voice from the door.

"Ronniekins," said Fred, annoyed. "We were just talking about you."

Ron, standing in the door, holding a large, moldy book, raised his eyebrows. "Nothing bad, I hope," he said, unconcernedly. The twins would never do anything _too _harmful to him. Just embarrassing.

"Whatcha got there, Won-Won, ole boy?" Lee added. Then he gasped in fake horror. "A book! A _book! _What is the world coming to?"

Fred collapsed on his bed. "Save us all! Ronald Bilius Weasley," he paused dramatically, "has a _book! _Merlin save us all!"

"The world's ending!" George fake-sobbed loudly. "Ron's got _learning!_ He's turning into—into—_Hermione_!" he cut of with a wail.

Ron rolled his eyes amusedly at their antics. "I've got an idea, prats. Polyjuice Pastries! You just add a hair of the person you want to turn into to one of the pastries and there you go!"

Fred blinked in shock at the good idea, and then recovered his composure. "One problem, my dear pastry. Where would we get the recipe? It's not in any books we can order from Flourish and Blotts."

"And even then," George chimed in, "It's supposed to be incredibly difficult. They say even Snape has trouble with it! Snape's a great greasy bat, but he's a half-way decent Potions Master."

Ron rolled his and thrust the book at him. "If you wanted the recipe, you could've just asked. And it's not that hard a potion to make; they only say that 'cause they don't want a million Harry Potters or Ministers running around," Ron said, casually leaning against the door frame.

Lee stared in shock at the cover of _Moste Potente Potions. _"I've heard of this," he said in a hushed voice, leaning over Fred to look at the book on George's lap. "There only supposed to three copies in the entire world."

Fred's mouth was hanging open as he looked from the book to Ron and back again, the latter looking vaguely surprised at this new information.

"Why?" Ron asked curiously.

Lee stared at Ron, his eyes bugging out and his dreadlocks bouncing up and down excitedly. "Because it's supposed to be written by _Morgana_, that's why, you prat! According to legend she had one copy for herself, one for Mordred, and one for Nimueh! The book was supposed to have her greatest potion works in it! Not even Dumbledore's got one!"

"Really?" Ron said, looking impressed.

"Not 'really'," George cut him off, "Where did you get this?"

"Well, I had it my trunk from second year," said Ron nonchalantly. "I forgot about 'til now. Thought you might like to have it."

Fred's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why would you have a ancient and possibly dangerous book in your school trunk? And as a _second _year?" Immediately George and Lee were alert, all looking at Ron in askance.

"Well, 'Mione forgot to return from after we finished the Polyjuice Potion to find the Heir of Slytherin. And Snape wanted the book, so Madam Pince was searching all the common rooms to find it. Hermione didn't want to get in trouble, so she hid it in my trunk—least likely place to find an ancient potions book—and we all forgot about it," Ron finished offhandedly.

Fred was gaping wordlessly like a fish found on dry land, George was choking on air, and Lee was swaying dangerously, looking faint. Ron looked bemusedly at his brothers (Lee included). George nodded imperceptibly to Fred and Lee, who, closest to the door, shut and locked it with a _snap._

Ron found himself suddenly and inexplicably found himself being forced into Fred's desk chair and his ankles and hands bound.

"I think," Fred said through gritted teeth, "You will find yourself explaining—"

"Why, three scrawny twelve-year-old second years—" George picked up the sentence.

"Found themselves making a highly lethal and potentially life-threatening potion," Lee finished.

Ron stared at them blankly, not quite comprehending what was happening.

"So?" the three demanded. "Answers!"

Ron suddenly got the feeling that this was going to be a very long day.

Disclaimer:

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or JKR's works.

Up next:

_Forgiveness_


	14. Forgiveness

_Chapter Thirteen_

_Forgiveness_

Without stopping to think, Harry shoved past the adults and ran out of the door, following after Neville. He ran with surprising speed for his weak heath state, and Lily looked like she wanted to protest because of that fact. James did, too, but he let it go.

Alice sat down heavily on the couch with a pitiful wail and curled up like a cat. Lily went to her immediately, while Marauders quietly discussed waking the other three people up as well (two of which were apparently Minerva McGonagall and Augusta Longbottom. The other had yet to been identified but was steadily soaking the carpet.) Frank stood there, motionless, in the center of the room, trying to grasp what exactly all that happened. It hurt. A lot. Like a gaping, bloody wound in his chest; it hurt. Knowing his son, his precious firstborn, his only son, the light of his life, was angry—no, _furious—_at_ him_, made the hole in his chest it hurt a whole lot more.

To no one in particular, Frank said the only thing he could think of at the moment.

"My son had to be a Gryffindor, didn't he?"

* * *

><p>Harry slowed to a stop and leaned against a wall. He huffed and puffed, trying to force some air into his lungs. His mum hadn't been lying when she said his body would need to recuperate. Not that he would ever admit that. Harry looked around, trying to gain his bearings. Potter Castle, at first glance, had a very simple layout. Harry was now discovering that appearances could be deceiving. He swore he could hear the castle itself laughing at him.<p>

Harry was on the same floor, but he figured, was somewhere near the astronomy lab, which was on the other side of the fourth floor than the study. Harry groaned. Who knew Neville was such a fast runner?

Abruptly, Harry sneezed. _That damned lavender! _He thought furiously, and then instantly mentally slapped himself for being so stupid. The greenhouse! Of course, Neville would go to the greenhouse!

Moving his feet as fast as they could go (about glacial speed) he made it to the entrance of the greenhouse. Harry briefly remembered the near panic-attack James had had because he had went within fifty feet of the greenhouse.

He then promptly barged in.

The greenhouse was a lot like the ones at Hogwarts. The same pseudo-sunlight that was used on the fifth floor streamed through the entire room (except with some dark corners for the nocturnal vegetation) and shone over the neat rows of plants. The rows themselves (planters, Harry supposed they could be called) were about knee-height, and the bases were made of the gray stone; while thick, rich soil gave birth to a bunch of green…things. Or whatever they were. Plants, probably - but they certainly didn't look like Petunia's flowers

There were trellises on the walls and planters hung from the ceiling: vines and other leafy branches hanging down. Despite the fact the greenhouse had not been used for twenty years, the house-elves must've kept it up, because the entire thing was in perfect condition. The whole effect would've been quite pleasant, had it not been for the fact that all the plants were…_alive. _And very hostile-looking.

Of course, it wasn't anything that Harry hadn't seen in the Hogwarts greenhouses, school grounds, or Forbidden Forest (with a couple exceptions. Especially that big mound of…was that shrub on fire?). And Harry was very aware and disgruntled (on principle, having been against most authority figures all of his life) that James' warning (more like heart attack) might have had merit.

After much useless and pretty whimsical ("Wow, that looks _cool_! I can't believe that _thing_ is a _plant!_ No wonder Neville likes this subject!") walking, he finally found Neville, leaning against a planter that housed what he vaguely identified as a Calming Camellia. Unfortunately, the lavender was right across from the camellias.

Harry sneezed.

Neville didn't look up, his arms were crossed across his chest and he seemed to be glaring a slow and painful death on a dandelion that had sprung up in the beds of lavender. Harry sneezed again. _Stupid lavender…_

"Were your parents dead?" Harry asked bluntly. He dimly registered that this may not be the best way to start a conversation, but he plowed ahead. "Mine were. And, I think, that somewhere—in the back of my mind—I always resented my parents. For leaving me, for not being there when every other mother or father would show up for Parent's Day, or Take-Their-Kid-To-Work Day. For not being there when I needed them."

Neville flinched as his own words were thrown back at him, but Harry paid no heed.

"And I suppose, when they first showed up, that was my reaction. Be angry. But then…" Harry cocked his head to the side, trying to recall exactly what happened. The memory, though new, was hazy from his sleep-deprived and physical state. "My parents…they were so…_broken_. Mum, she looked like it physically pained her to see me that way. The way the Dursleys had abused me. The way her _sister _had hurt me; her own nephew. Her sister's flesh and blood."

Neville made no outward reaction, but Harry could see that he had heard him from the glimmer of anger, shock, and even a bit of empathy in his eyes.

"And Dad…he was angry. I think…I think he's still angry. On some level, I think he'll always be. He's angry at Dumbledore for putting me there, and he's angry at the Dursleys for treating me that way." Harry neglected to mention Pettigrew, seeing as Neville didn't know that side of the story. "And he doesn't…_trust _anymore, I think. I don't know exactly what's gone down with Dumbledore, but something happened. And because of that, Dad's not the same man he used to be. Neither is Mum. And, in some ways, I don't think they'll ever be.

"But…when I saw them, angry for me…sad for me…hurt for me, I felt my anger towards my parents…dissipate. I realized I was no longer angry with them for leaving me, but instead, I was glad I had parents that _would_ leave me, to save me. Many wouldn't do that. And I loved them and missed them for that."

For a moment, there was silence.

"My parents were tortured into insanity," Neville said, still staring at the dandelion, replying to Harry's first question. "About a day after Voldemort—" Harry smiled inwardly at the use of Voldemort's true name. Apparently Neville's anger brought out bravery. "—fell. Bellatrix, Rabastan, Rudophus Lestrange, and Barty Crouch Junior were looking for information about where Voldemort was. They thought that my parents had it. My mum hid me while my dad fought them off, but there were too many. By the time the Aurors got there it was to late. The damage was irreversible. They were alive…but barely. They were simply shells."

Harry - knowing the feeling of sympathetic words and pitiful glances - simply nodded, conveying to Neville his support.

"You want me to apologize," Neville said frankly.

"Not apologize," Harry mused. "Just explain. This is an once-in-a-lifetime chance. I don't think you really want to mess it up."

Neville gave him a faint smile, "No, I don't think so." He stood up and nodded at Harry, and they made their way out of the greenhouse together.

* * *

><p>Alice was crying.<p>

Her head was on Lily's shoulder as she leaned into her best friend's warm hug and cried for lost son. Everything hurt, all over. Everything ached. _She _ached. She ached with the heartbreak that flooded through her when her son stormed out, the only trace that he was once there and not some terrible nightmare were the welts where his stinging words and accusations had flown out, right onto her heart.

And she could not blame him. In some, deep, traitorous cavern of her heart, she knew it would be easier to, but Alice was a Hufflepuff. She never took the easy route out. Alice Longbottom could never blame her son. She, herself, while her husband and her sat at St. Mungo's, had had those same thoughts. It hurt, though, knowing they were true and that she heard her son say them.

"Alice," she heard her husband's gentle voice say distantly. She didn't want to open her eyes to face anyone, least of all her husband. It still hurt too much. She wanted her baby. She didn't care how old he was, or how much dirt he was covered in. She didn't care about what he had just said. _For the love of Godric, she wanted her child!_

Alice let out another wail, muffled into Lily's shoulder as her husband's strong arms wrapped around her. She crawled into his lap and buried her head in his shoulder like a child seeking comfort. Droplets of water, falling down on her hair told her Frank was crying also.

For a long time, both of them just sat there on the couch, crying into each other's arms. Slowly, her tears stopped coming and dried, and she watched as Lily and the Marauders talked to two of the three others that had appeared with her, Frank, and…Neville.

The four of them had filled Minerva McGonagall and Augusta Longbottom in on what had happened and their conclusions about Dumbledore. Minerva had been shaken and angry, and Augusta had stared at her and Frank long and hard.

"Frankie…Alice, honey, are you…?" she asked, her voice trailing off.

"Yes, Mum," Came Frank's hoarse voice.

A wane smile appeared on her face, but there was wetness in her eyes she refused to acknowledge. "I'm glad. I told the doctors, I told you, I told Neville you'd come around. I wish you could meet him. He's—"

"Here," a tired voice cut off from the doorway. Alice and Frank spun around to face their son, carrying a limp Harry Potter in his arms.

Of all the times.

Of all the times that Harry-Bloody-Potter had to faint, it had to be now.

How on earth was Neville supposed to make his way back to the study? In a bloody castle, no less? The first time, after running out the door, he had simply followed the smells to the greenhouse. He didn't know how to make his way around the castle. Hell, he didn't think _Harry _knew how to make his way around the castle.

Neville huffed indignantly. How was he supposed to do this? Sure, he could carry shovels and watering cans, but a whole human being was a bit different! Faced with no other option, Neville swung Harry up on his shoulder. Harry was about as heavy as he looked, which meant he wasn't very, but Neville could've sworn he was gaining weight just hanging over his shoulder. Neville carried him the only way he could, fireman-style, and slowly started down the hallway, cursing under his breath that Harry was the only one who didn't realize how fragile his body was. He hoped Mrs. Potter would drug him or something until he was well again.

Ah! There! Neville spotted the heavy oak doors that he had rushed out of earlier. Guilt was starting to envelope him. He shouldn't have said those things, and now he was determined to make it right. He had hurt his parents with what he had said. How long had he wished for parents? What Harry said had gotten through to him. He had missed his parents. He wanted them to tell him stories and tuck him in bed at night and comfort him through his nightmares. And Harry was right, Neville was happy that he cared that much that his parents _would _leave. It hurt when they did, but Neville felt a strange blissful feeling that they would.

Neville, oblivious to the dead weight on his shoulder, stared at the door apprehensively. He was scared. There, he admitted it. The minute brash, brazened boldness he'd had earlier escaped him.

He shifted from foot to foot. _Maybe I could bide my time…? _He wondered weakly. He then looked at the top of Harry's messy-haired head. _No, not if Harry's in trouble, _Neville thought firmly. _But…_ doubt and fear dripped unhindered into his thoughts.

Unbidden, a quote from an old Muggle book came into his head. He found it, late at night, in the corner of the library at Longbottom Lodge. He had been looking for Herbology texts to distract himself from the upcoming visit to St. Mungo's.

_Let bravery be thy choice, but not bravado._

Neville hadn't understood then, what it meant. He hadn't asked his Gran, either, he felt there was something special about it. But, five years ago, when he had been standing in front of the door to his parents' ward, he had understood what it meant. He had not wanted to face his parents; their blank faces would dredge up memories that would haunt him forever. He understood: real bravery came from the heart, not false visions of grandeur about it. Ever since that day, he had tried to live his life by that code.

Neville was not ashamed to be scared; he would be brave when he needed to. Neville remembered, all those years ago, when the Sorting Hat whispered in his ear, in his hoarse, wise old voice:

_"'Let bravery be thy choice, but not bravado?' An interesting choice to live by, Longbottom. Wise, by all accounts. You could do Ravenclaw well. Like your father. And loyal to those you love to a fault. Like your mother…but I think the choice is clear. It better be…GRYFFINDOR!"_

Neville took a deep breath and put his hand to the door. He didn't realize how heavy Harry had become. He could hear his Gran's voice (when did she get here?), muffled through the door; "…I told Neville you could come around. I wish you could meet him. He's—"

With no fear left, Neville shouldered his burden and pushed the door open. "Here," he called out.

* * *

><p>Sirius Black had seen a lot of strange things in his lifetime.<p>

He was best friends with a werewolf, had become an animagus at age fifteen, had almost fed a kid to said werewolf, he had owned a flying motorbike, his brother had become a Death Eater and then killed by turning traitor, his best mate and wife had been killed but their child lived, he had gone to murder someone, only to be accused of murdering thirteen people he hadn't, actually, murdered, had two of his other friends tortured into insanity, had been in Azkaban Prison for twelve years and had not gone insane, had _escaped _Azkaban Prison, had become reunited with his last remaining friend and godson, only to be captured by dementors, had been saved by said godson and friend going illegally back in time and rescuing an innocent hippogriff along with him, had seen his two dead best friends come back to life, had seen his godson been abused, had seen two formerly-insane friends come back to…sanity…and their son walk out on them.

Okay, so a lot of those weren't strange. In fact, they were dead depressing. But…this…this topped it off quite nicely.

And that was because Sirius Black was staring blankly at his formerly dead brother, splayed out on the carpet in front of him, passed out and soaking wet and dripping all over the place. The first thing he could think, was:

_They _drowned _him? Dear Godric, these Death Eaters are getting creative._

And that was about where his thought process had stopped.

He could hear Lily and Prongs in the background, fussing over Harry who had fainted from overexerting himself. And Remus seemed to be there also, along with Minerva. Augusta, Neville, Frank, and Alice were all in the background somewhere. He also wanted to be there, but there was a problem.

But he really couldn't hear them.

From the moment he had laid eyes on his brother, the sound of the world had become drowned out and a simple inconsistent buzz in his ears. His eyes, too, seemed to stop seeing the world, but were only focused on his brother. Everything else seemed muted and unimportant.

He titled his head to the side, eyes wide, with the strange form of childlike curiosity he had reverted back to. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was a bit worried for his mental state. Well, he had never _technically _been mentally stable, and figured he'd eventually go insane like his dear old mum. Azkaban had helped him along with that fairly satisfactorily, and this was, apparently, the breaking point.

_Oh dear, _he thought vaguely, poking Regulus' head with his toe. _If I'm going to be insane, I might as well have my brother with me, as well. Maybe he'd like to join me - I always said Reggie would go insane…_

* * *

><p>Regulus had always said his brother would go insane.<p>

"Reg-u-lus…Reg-u-lus…Reg-u-lus…wakey-wakey!"

It was a fact of life. Like the sky was blue, the grass was green, and Mother was homicidal, bitchy, old hag.

"What are you doing, sleeping, Reggie-poo? It's not even nighttime yet! Look, the sun's still out!" Was punctuated with a loud cackle.

Regulus, however, had not expected this.

"You're being silly, Reg-u-lus! Wakey, wakey!"

He had not expected to wake up, being prodded by his big brother's toe, while said big brother was cackling madly like Bellatrix Lestrange.

Regulus scrambled upwards, almost falling down from nausea in his urgency. Whatever form of travel he had just been exposed to was not a pleasant one. Regulus took a moment to steady himself; and most of the nausea receded. He looked up into his older brother's face and it immediately came back.

His brother, once so lively and healthy, looked nothing like he used to. Sirius'ss classic Black characteristics had turned him into looking like a raving madman. His olive-skin was deathly pale and his high, aristocratic cheekbones stood out in his gaunt face; his once-filled frame of muscle and sinew was now bones held together by tendrils of skin. While he looked clean, wearing luxurious robes Regulus had not seen Sirius wear since before he was sorted into Gryffindor, there were still traces of…whatever it was. Wherever Sirius had been.

Regulus was shaken. It looked like his brother had aged thirteen years, not the thirteen days it had been since he had last saw him. Sirius looked…horrific. The most gruesome of all were his eyes.

Sirius'ss Black-family-trademark gray eyes had sparkled always with mischief and happiness. Always. They had been a beacon of happiness to Regulus as a kid. Whenever he had been feeling down, he would simply look in his brother's eyes and crack a grin.

But now…_now_…

Those eyes were dead. It looked like shutters had closed them from the inside out, and there was a haunted, deadened look in Sirius'ss eyes that made him want to look away. There was no sparkle of mischief or happiness; the only sparkle was the insane glitter that littered his eyes freely.

Regulus recoiled. It was only yesterday he had seen Bellatrix Lestrange with those same mad eyes, dueling some Auror and cackling with the same insanity and lunacy Sirius now possessed. The only difference, it seemed, was that Sirius had not attacked him: as Bellatrix would have surely done by now, had Sirius been as volatile as her. It was like—_no, no don't think of that, _Regulus suppressed the memories frantically.

Sirius cocked his head to the side like an innocent puppy, those eyes (_Those eyes. Those eyes. Those haunting, unforgettable, eyes. Sirius, what have you done?) _staring at him, gleaming with the wild intensity that could only come from a madman. _Or when you are—don't think, don't think—_

Regulus felt like crying. _Where had he been—_Sirius was mad, stark raving mad—_where had the time gone—_looking at him with those psychotic eyes—_what happened—_Sirius poked him again, as though he could not see he was awake—_where had he been—_Sirius laughed insanely without meaning again—_how had this happened—_Sirius was talking to him that fractured voice—_who had done this, who broke his brother—_Sirius stared at him with unseeing, lifeless eyes—_why had this happened, who had done this, who, who, who…_chanted in his mind, unhearing and unfeeling, he wanted his brother, his brother who would hold him when he had nightmares, nurse his wounds when his mother hit him, who would _be his big brother, not this mad replacement—_with a strangled cry, he threw himself into Sirius'ss arms, tackling him with a hug, wanting to hold his brother one last time before he—_hunted down who ever made his brother that way_—he could feel Sirius'ss ribs—_if you be Voldemort yourself, I will kill—_

His thought trail was cut off when Sirius started sobbing, and he cursed whoever it was to high hell _because, goddammit_, _his brother does not cry—_great, heaving sobs on his shoulder, running down his already wet clothes—_I want Sirius back, my big brother—_but leaving their stain because they were Sirius'ss tears—_who does not cry, who is not dead, who knows who he is—not this shell—he knows m—_

"_I missed you, Reggie!" _came the choked sob from his _I'll kill who did this to my now insane brother—_

Regulus froze. "You—you're mad," he choked, "You looked _insane—"_

"I'm sorry," Sirius cried, "I didn't mean that—it just happens sometimes—from the dementors—_Godric, Reggie, I missed you—_I don't hate you—I love you—_you're my little brother—"_

Regulus was vaguely aware of other people in the room, but trying to make sense of Sirius'ss words. He sounded lucid, what did he mean, 'from the dementors'? And 'I don't hate you'? What did that-?

Regulus stopped dead, recalling a memory from a raid, four years ago, that he tried so hard to repress. The one where Sirius was so alike. Like had he had been at the raid again.

_Spells flew everywhere, the sky was dark, and the Dark Mark grinned maliciously over Diagon Alley. Thrill ran through Regulus' veins as the screaming of women and children hit the air, with the shouts of spells and yells to find cover from the men—_"You should never find joy in another's suffering unless they give you three good reasons."

_Unbidden, his brother's face came to mind along with his words when he had found him teasing a Hufflepuff boy his first year at Hogwarts. _You can't talk_, he thought bitterly, remembering Sirius'ss gang, the Marauders._

_Suddenly, wild laughter filled the air._

_Regulus' blood froze. He had heard that laughter before—no, no it _couldn't_ be—across the street, three men entered the street from a near-by alley, all with matching, feral grins. Sparks flew from their wands as, with a wild laugh, Sirius blasted the nearest Death Eater into a brick wall with a sickening CRACK._

_Next to him, Lucius growled and moved to take up the unspoken invitation for a duel with Sirius. Suddenly, fury and revenge boiling in his heart, he shoved Lucius aside._

"_No," he growled. "He's mine," Regulus said, watching James Potter slam Death Eaters away with a wall of golden flames and a gleeful grin._

_Lucius scoffed arrogantly, "No new recruit can duel Black."_

"_Maybe you've forgotten," Regulus retorted icily, "But I know his last name very well."_

_Lucius scoffed once more, "Be it your life, _cousin," _he sneered, but fell silent, instead aiming a powerful Reducto at the nearest store window._

_Sirius shot a spell, an unidentifiable blood red one—whether it was a stunner or more deadly, Regulus did not know—and Regulus blocked it with a burst of violet shield that expanded the length of the whole alley. Sirius'ss eyes widened fractionally, and with that Regulus felt a surge of pride; that he managed to catch the Grim off guard._

_For a moment there was dead silence._

"_So," Sirius sneered, his face contorted so like their father's that Regulus almost missed the flash of heartbreak in his eyes. But he did see it, and he felt his own, and instantly pushed it down. He realized, that, with that sneer, Sirius had been trying to hide his inner hurt, "So, my favorite brother has come out to duel with the big kids. How does it feel, Reg-u-lus?" he mocked._

_Regulus had never hated his own name so much, and almost wished he could run into his big brother's arms like he did when he was younger._

_Instead, he sneered back at his brother, "Come to play, Si-ri-us? I thought you'd be over there," he drawled, waving a hand back towards the cowering townspeople, "With the cowards," he snarled, the memory of Sirius running to the Potters' house coming to mind._

_Unfortunately, that had come to Sirius'ss mind to; and he smirked viciously, "A coward, Gus-Gus?" he cocked his head in a vaguely canine fashion, before throwing his head back and laughing manically. His spell, which was still connected to Regulus' shield, he jerked back, slicing it through the Death Eaters who were unlucky enough to be in front of the shield. He inwardly winced as the recruits' shrieks of pain hit the air. Regulus felt the hair on the back rise. He had been right; the blood-red spell was more lethal than it looked. Sirius grinned cruelly, "Really?" he said in the same drawling fashion as Regulus. "I thought the coward was you_._"_

_Regulus flinched involuntarily at the same memory and he snarled, "No, I'm pretty sure traitors and cowards are the same. Luckily, I am not one."_

_An inhumane smirk worked its way onto Sirius'ss face. "We'll see," he breathed, rasping, "We'll see."_

_And then they started to duel._

_It was that duel that had made Regulus eligible for the Death Eaters, not just a recruit, and Sirius for the Order of the Phoenix; Regulus being the only one who could duel 'the Grim', and Sirius the only one who could duel 'the Panther'; who had been "been causing trouble" for the Light side._

_Regulus had found out that Sirius, while not a Slytherin, wasted nothing. Any spell not used him, went to another Death Eater. Cruel and unhonorable, yes, but effective also. Regulus had not been surprised like this, like many others (including Lucius) had been. Regulus wasted no time using spells that Sirius would have a hard time recognizing. It would make Sirius more likely to duck and shield rather then counter-attack. Unfortunately, and slightly surprising for Regulus, Sirius seemed to know an unsettlingly large amount of the rather lethal spells Regulus had used._

_The duel had ended when dawn had approached. Still dueling, both Regulus and Sirius had been forced to apparate away before a clear winner was determined. At the end of duel, when Sirius had been close to winning, Regulus had desperately called out the Killing Curse._

_Sirius'ss eyes had widened as he dove past the spell._

_Strangely hoarse, the next thing he had called out was not a spell, but the only he managed to rasp out through his shocked state was three words. Sirius'ss eyes wet with shock and hurt and loathing, he said in a rasping voice three words that made Regulus regret every action he had ever done._

"_I hate you."_

_Regulus' throat had constricted and tears he refused to let fall fill his eyes; before either could do anything, dawn broke and dozen pops of Apparation signaled the Ministry had come. He apparated away with his fellow Death Eaters, but not to the Dark Lord's hideout._

_Instead, he apparated to a park bench where Sirius and he had shared ice cream as kids. Looking down with a strangled sob, he could see where SIRI and REGGIE had been carved in with children's handwriting._

"_I hate me, too, Siri," Regulus sobbed, everything coming back. Everything he had done under the mask and whenever he had thought the cruel teachings of Walburga Black were wrong came flooding back. All of his brother's teachings and moral values returned to him. He curled into a ball on the park bench, oblivious to his injuries and anything else in the world, and tears flowed down his cheeks, "I hate me, too, Siri. I'm so sorry," With a hoarse wail, he fell to his knees on the ground as if begging his brother for forgiveness, "I'm so sorry, Siri! Sirius, I'm so sorry!"_

And Regulus found himself on his knees again, repeating the sentiment. His eyes wet with tears and on his knees, Regulus Black begged his only family for forgiveness.

"I'm so sorry, Siri!" he sobbed. "I hate me, too! I tried to make up for it, I did! I took his horcrux—I took Voldemort's hocrux—I hated what I'd done, what'd I become—Emme left—" he let out a strangled sound in his throat, "—when they came for me to be Branded, I told her to leave—to run—I didn't—I didn't think they'd actually—actually _kill_—her! I told—them—that I was done—after that. That raid. I—I—took—took the horcrux and _I'm so sorry!" _he howled with a wild cry, "_I didn't mean it! I love you Siri, I'm so sorry! I don't know what I was thinking—you were right! Please forgive me, Sirius! Siri, I'm so sorry!"_

Regulus was on his knees, tears dripping down his face, but he didn't care. He needed to hear it. He needed to hear his brother say he didn't hate him; that he'd forgive him: eventually. Regulus knew there was no way he would immediately, but he needed to hear it. His wife was dead, he was sure; _he needed his brother._

He felt his brother's strong arms wrap around him, comforting him like a child.

His brother's sanity was a question in his mind still, but so was his own, he supposed, as he sobbed unashamedly into his brother's shoulder.

"You're safe now, Reggie," he heard Sirius mutter. "You're fine, now."

* * *

><p>Neville looked carefully over at the Black brothers. Professor McGonagall had told him the whole story during Sirius and Regulus' little…breakdown. He took a deep breath and repeated Harry's words and his quote over and over again in his head. Slowly, he walked up behind his parents, who were staring disconcertedly at the Black brothers.<p>

Frank was aware someone was tugging on his robes. He turned around, to look down into the honey-colored eyes of his son. His heart caught in his throat. Neville shifted from foot to foot, looking nervously at the ground again.

"I think," Neville cleared his throat, "That maybe I should—should talk to you."

Neville stumbled over his words a little, and it amazed Frank how much different this scared, young boy seemed from the angry young man he had met today. Frank bit the inside of his cheek. _Everything _about Neville amazed him. He could never be angry with his son, no matter what Neville said.

"Okay," he said, in a voice not quite like his own as Alice gripped his hand tightly, drinking in the sight of her son as though she might never see him again. _And she might not, depending if he's still angry…_he visibly sagged at the thought. "I know a place."

He chanced a glance over at James, Lily, and Remus. James seemed to just have had a heart attack and was plainly trying to slow down his breathing while glancing at Sirius. Remus was switching back and forth from looking at Sirius and Harry worriedly, and Lily was biting her lip, looking Harry over and chancing glimpses at Sirius, but they all seemed to know that Sirius had to be with his brother alone.

Minerva, who was sitting in the corner watching the happenings and holding back his mother, gave him an incisive nod and spoke sharply to Augusta who seemed to be straining to speak with Alice, Neville and himself. She never got the chance as he led his son out the door. _Hopefully, _he thought, _this will go better then our last…talk._

He looked down at his son, whose face was crumpled like a tin can, and again, seemed to find interest in the stone floors of the hallways of Potter Castle. Frank inwardly frowned as he saw Neville shirk slightly away from them. _Was he expecting a scolding? _Frank wondered. _It was all right for him to speak his mind…even if it hurt._

They rounded a corner and Frank pushed open the doors to the library. He could see Alice repressing a smirk and muttering something like, "You Ravenclaws are all the same."

Frank walked to the very back of the library, passing hundreds of books along the way. He took them to a dusty old corner in the back of the room were four armchairs sat under a grimy window that sunlight barely peeked through.

They each took one of the armchairs and sat their in silence for a while. Finally, Neville burst out, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I just—_I missed you!" _A tear he didn't seem aware of crawled down his cheek.

Frank felt his heart swell with happiness and pride for his son, as Alice wrapped her arms around Neville, sobbing with happiness as she hugged him tightly. Frank circled his arms around them both, and he whispered in Neville's ear, "We missed you, too."

* * *

><p>Ron struggled against his binds and glared at his captors.<p>

_One more time, _he thought, _one more time_, he struggled against his bonds.

"It's no use," George said, fixing him with a steely glare. "Start talking."

"Come on," Ron said, exasperated. "I thought this all was common knowledge! I mean, Harry, Hermione, and I won points for saving the Sorcerer's Stone from You-Know-Who first year! And we got points last year, for closing the Chamber of Secrets, too. Why did you think we all had exams off?" He left out the part about Sirius. Ron didn't want to get Harry's only father-figure in trouble.

_Apparently_, Ron thought a bit belatedly, looking at his dumbstruck brothers, _I shouldn't have said that. _Ron looked over his brothers carefully. Fred looked like he was having an aneurysm while George seemed to be having what one might consider a stroke. Lee seemed on the verge of fainting again.

Suddenly, Ron remembered what Hermione had said at the end of their last term. _"If my parents found out I rescued a stone from a homicidal maniac, found an ancient chamber, was almost killed from a huge snake, and rescued a convict by breaking the laws of time itself, they pull me out of Hogwarts faster than you can say 'Quidditch!'"_

Of course, they'd all had a good laugh, but now Ron was thinking there might've been some merit to her words. While many people knew some vague details about the extent of what they did, Ron had never shared the entirety with anyone. That was, of course, because he thought they had all known.

_Evidently, _he thought weakly, _that's not the case._

He was debating frantically in his mind. What did he tell them with out getting anyone in trouble? _Himself _in trouble? They had broken a lot of rules in the last three years, not to mention _laws. _Could he edit it out of the story? What about telling them—?

"Everything," Fred growled. "Tell us _everything._"

Ron gulped. He hadn't seen Fred, George, and Lee ever been this serious before. Hopefully, the wouldn't tell—

"We won't tell Mum," George interrupted, using that uncanny ability the twins had to read people's thoughts.

Ron inwardly groaned. There was no getting out of it now.

"Well," Ron said. "Where do start?" _Please say Polyjuice, please say Polyjuice, please say—_

"On your train ride to school, first year." Lee said firmly, exchanging a glance with Fred and George. They didn't know what had happened, but they had seen Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle come out of the their compartment.

_Bloody hell. The whole three years._

"And we want the whole truth, Ron," Fred said firmly.

"Or else we _will _test our products on you," George said, determined to get the answer as to what his little brother had been doing his first three years of school.

_Damn._

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or JKR's works.

Up next:

_Terrors of the Mind and Body_


	15. Terrors of the Mind and Body

_Chapter Fourteen_

_Terrors of the Mind and Body_

James was convinced his son was going to give him a heart attack.

He had carefully laid Harry on the couch while Lily swathed him in a blanket. James looked over to where Sirius was cradling Regulus in his arms after both of their breakdowns. Minerva and Augusta were talking quietly, sitting in armchairs in the far side of the room. The other three Longbottoms had just reentered the room, eyes looked red-rimmed and incredibly happy.

"We're going down to the infirmary," Lily said loudly, announcing to the room. Sirius looked like he wanted to protest and Alice looked affronted. Lily looked around, giving everyone her infamous evil eye. "_You will _comply." She hissed menacingly, making Alice and Sirius shut their mouths with an audible _click. _Lily snapped her fingers and Daisy the house-elf appeared. "Take us to the infirmary, please, Daisy," Lily smiled. Daisy nodded and snapped her fingers, and they were instantly shoved down tubes; elf apparation or not, it was all the same.

The infirmary was almost the same as the infirmary in Potter Bunker, except smaller and built more for long-term use. There were white marble floors, swirled and flecked with gray, and high ceilings that made the room feel open and airy. There were about ten beds, each queen-sized with an oak frame and warm, white bedding and scarlet duvets. There was a table on the side of each bed, stacked with healing equipment along with two scarlet armchairs.

James dazedly maneuvered over to one of the beds, laying Harry gently on the bed and lying down next to him, encircling his arms around Harry and burying his face in his messy hair, unwilling to let his son go.

"_We came to close to losing you, fawn," _James whispered. _"I promise you, that will change." _Was his last lucid thought before he drifted to sleep.

* * *

><p>Lily brushed a lock of red hair out of her face. She smiled. She loved being a Healer; this was how she helped her family. Granted there were some…concerning things. Things she was certain could only be done by one Albus Dumbledore. Fury welled inside of her, but she forcefully pushed it down. That was how you made mistakes as a Healer. <em>No emotion; fear, concern, or anger can ever rule you. <em>Her teacher had drilled into her mind. _It only makes mistakes._

That had been a hard lesson for her to learn. Lily's fiery temperament made her very passionate. She was quick to anger and quick to cool; and dealing with those emotions in the field had become almost routine. She went over her mental catalogue again:

_Myself: tired, sore from lack of muscle use._

_James: tired, sore from lack of muscle use._

_Alice: hungry, thirsty, emotionally strained, sore from lack of muscle use._

_Frank: hungry, thirsty, sore from lack of muscle use._

_Sirius: severely malnourished, emotionally strained, mentally unstable._

_Regulus: traces of poison (Drink of Despair?), emotionally strained, sore from lack of muscle use, excess water in lungs._

_Remus: hungry, tired._

_Minerva: Healthy._

_Augusta: Healthy._

Lily grimaced. Lily had given Alice a Calming Draught, and that was about all she needed to do as Regulus and Sirius's were by far the worst injuries, but fixable. She managed to feed Sirius some nourishment potions, which he would have to continue to take for three months to renew thirteen years worth of malnourishment. Lily also fed him a calming potion to help with his emotions, and had Sirius put down his Occulmency barriers to help with his mentality.

Lily had been a Mind Healer as well as a regular Healer. To be a Mind Healer required a refined form of Legilimency, which she had practiced years on cultivating. Mind Healers were used to calm down mentally unstable people and occasionally heal them; depending on how bad their instability was. It was also used on criminals returning from Azkaban (not that there were many) and war veterans.

Sirius had put up a fight, though. He insisted that he was perfectly fine, but relented when Lily glared and promised him a new broom along with pancakes. Sirius'ss mind was a mess, but it was a simple procedure. Lily sorted through his memories, placing the worst ones into boxes and captured the ones that had been 'flying around' his mind. She also soothed the effects some of the memories had on him, and well as the effects of the Dementors, bringing back the memories - the happy ones - the Dementors had repressed.

Lily had been shaking for some time after that. Sirius's memories had been gruesome and scary and…sad. Very sad. She did not pry, but she now knew there was more going on with his family than his mother's hateful words.

Lily tried not to think about it. Sirius would not respond well to any comforting, and she knew, somehow, the only one who could help him heal was Regulus.

Regulus' was easier than Sirius's, but more alarming. Lily wanted to ask where Regulus had been, but she knew the properties of the Drink of Despair. It made you relive your worst memories, thoughts, and emotions. _No wonder he was emotionally strained, _Lily thought sadly. _No one should ever have to go through that. _She was honestly surprised he wasn't insane.

She drained the rest of the potion from his body, along with the excess water from his lungs. Lily also gave him a Dreamless Sleep Potion for when he was to go to sleep, concerned about the nightmares he might have. While Lily knew Regulus had been a Death Eater, she had seen the pain in his eyes. He was distraught and heartbroken. She was remembered that Sirius got a missive saying that Regulus had turned to traitor and had been killed. So many people who had been killed or incarcerated that came back to life, it wasn't even fazing her anymore.

Lily checked off the last two names on the checklist and shivered. While not the most harmful, they were lethal in their own rights and downright disturbing.

_Harry: overexerted, healing from past injuries, traces of basilisk venom, phoenix tears, Polyjuice Potion, Cruciatus Curse, Killing Curse, Imperius Curse; compulsion charms, memory charms, magic bindings, bindings on magical gifts._

_Neville: emotionally strained, traces of Cruciatus Curse, Blood-Boiling Curse, Bone-Breaking Curse; memory charms, compulsion charms, magic bindings, bindings on magical gifts._

Lily had been distraught and furious. There was only one person who had the audacity to put such restrictions on someone and let people go through such trauma. _And I will see to it myself if I have to that you burn in hell, where you belong, Albus Dumbledore. _And in Lily Potter's mind, Dumbledore had been responsible for all of those poisons, curses, and charms.

She had quickly suppressed her emotions and got to work.

On Harry, she drained the lasting effects from the Cruciatus, Killing, and Imperius curses and traces of Polyjuice Potion. Lily hadn't been able to remove the phoenix tears or basilisk venom, as both had fused with his blood along with some of the Polyjuice Potion. The phoenix tears sped up his healing rate, and the basilisk venom made his blood a powerful toxin when ingested or touched. Whoever Harry had been impersonating was seriously strong, and Harry now had strength definitely not proportionate to his current size. She removed the compulsion charms, but knew better than to remove the memory charms or bindings. Lily would ask for her son's consent to remove them, and also talk to the other adults about the bindings and memory charms. With Neville, she removed the traces of curses, and gave him a Calming Draught. It would do to talk to Neville and the other adults Neville's about the memory charms and bindings, also.

Lily sighed contentedly and looked around at everyone. She felt at ease, now that she knew all of her family and friends were healthy. She looked around carefully. Harry was asleep on the bed closest to Lily, his head on James' shoulder as he lay next to Harry, as he spoke quietly to Minerva who sat in an armchair at their bedside.

Neville was asleep, too, worn out by the day's events, his head on Alice's lap, who was curled next to him, while Frank lay on the other side, talking to his mother, Augusta, who filled him in on events while Alice listened attentively. Sirius, Remus, and Regulus were conversing gravely; Sirius and Regulus lying in beds while Remus sat between them.

Lily cleared her throat, "I've had house-elves all prepare rooms for you, I think we should all go to bed, and we can tell Harry and Neville in the morning. Speaking of Harry and Neville," she held out the parchment to James where she had written the boys' maladies, "Pass that around."

James' face froze in place as he read over the list and wordlessly passed it to Minerva, his arms tightening around Harry. Various states of shock and anger rippled through everyone as the looked over the list.

"Dumbledore has gone to far," Minerva growled out in her Scottish brogue. "How dare he!"

"To children," Regulus shook his head. He then sneered, "Or should I say _pawns_?"

"Meddling old goat," Augusta roared. "He'll pay! Depriving children of their abilities!"

Frank shut his eyes tightly, face bright red. He looked like was going to yell numerous expletives, when a golden light appeared and a note fluttered down.

"Don't touch it!" Regulus, Minerva, Augusta, Frank, and Alice yelped. "Ours was a portkey!"

But as soon as they said it, the note started to speak, like a Howler. But instead of yelling, a man's voice spoke in a docile tone,

_"My friends, I bear you no ill-will. It was I, GFW, who brought you back to life or sanity, and into Potter Castle." _GFW spoke blandly. _"I am writing you from the future, where several things have now come to light. I deemed bringing you back and changing history the best course of action. I will explain more later, when you adjourn with Heir Potter and Heir Longbottom. I tell you now; I am friend, not foe. Until then, GFW."_

The letter cut off, dissolving into golden light, and everyone stood in shocked silence.

"Who—who?" asked Lily in a shaky voice. "How?"

"Not _who_ or _how_," Remus shook his head. "The question is, _why?_"

"And _should we trust them?_" Frank added.

Silence once again permeated the infirmary.

"He said he would write again," Alice pointed out, "I think we should go up to our rooms. We have a long…" she glanced at Neville and Harry. "…talk tomorrow. And it may not go as well as we hope."

Lily nodded, shifting her mind and trying to focus only on bedtime-related matters and said, "Alice, Frank, Augusta, Minerva, Sirius, and Remus, you'll all be in the same room as last time. Neville'll be in the north room, and Regulus' your room is next to Sirius'ss. He can help you find it. Can you all find your way?" she asked a bit unnecessarily. Lily was trying to sooth her nerves and concentrate on other things.

Everyone murmured agreement, and they departed their separate ways.

* * *

><p>"Harry, darling, wake up," came a voice, echoing through Harry's mind, bleary and black with slumber. Harry groaned and rolled over on his back, encountering a very soft surface. <em>Very soft…?<em> Where was he again?

Harry blinked his eyes open, hoping to get a clue. Everything was blurry, he didn't have his glasses on, but he could already see sunlight streaming from a far corner of a red and gold room. _Hogwarts, maybe?_ But that didn't make sense. It was summer; he was supposed to be at the Dursleys.

Urgh. He was too tired for this. Harry rolled back over on his stomach, trying to block the sun from view. Someone shook his shoulder. Harry groaned in response.

"Bud, get up, it's time for breakfast." The voice said patiently. Ah, Mum. Harry jerked, remembering everything. _How many times was he going to do this? _He questioned himself, wondering if it was going to be a daily ritual of waking up and remembering his parents were, indeed, alive.

Harry felt a thrill shoot through his body at the recognition his parents loved him. It was still strange, the feeling of having a mum or dad say randomly, "I love you," and the experience was so novel to Harry he felt that even if he was grounded he'd have a smile on his face.

Another strange thing was the way that they touched him. Harry was used to slaps or punches, and he had immediately acted on the defense whenever someone used to touch him: Hermione or Mrs. Weasley hugging him, Madame Pomfrey checking his pulse, or one of his Quidditch teammates patting him on the back. But, with Lily and James, they would hug him and hold his hand and it was with strange feeling of ease that he let them.

Or carry him to the infirmary; Harry recalled the day before with embarrassment. He had stirred several times after he blacked out—he refused to say fainted, maybe it was male pride, but by Godric, that was so _girly_—and vaguely recalled his father holding him and his mother running tests over him.

"Harry," Lily said again, with infinitive patience in her voice. "Breakfast," she shook his shoulder gently.

Harry acted instinctively, grabbing a pillow and forcing it over his head.

"G'way, Mum. Sl'p now. E't l'tr," his voice groggy and muffled.

Harry could hear Lily laughing and, with the _woosh_ of a wand his pillow went flying off his head.

Harry groaned in response and thumped his head against the mattress.

"Get up now, bud, or Uncle Sirius'll start the waterworks for making him wait for his precious food," she teased.

"We couldn't have that, now could we?" Harry moaned, sitting up in bed. Harry was vaguely surprised to find himself in his room (well, tower. It was strange to Harry to even have a room - much less a tower - willingly given to him and made to be filled with whatever he wanted and well…his own). He had expected to find himself in the infirmary again.

His room was filtered with sunlight shining in from the owlery, lighting up the deep, rich colors. Harry saw his school trunk along with his Firebolt, broomstick servicing kit, schoolbooks, parchment, and ink he had snuck up from the cupboard under the stairs all piled neatly at the foot of his bed, waiting for him to put them away.

His mother was sitting on the side of his bed, her crimson red hair in a messy ponytail and dark circles under her eyes. A fleecy, scarlet dressing gown was tied over top of a paisley nightgown and her wand stuck out of her pocket. She held a cup of coffee loosely in her hand, and by her yawning, it was obvious she was still waking up.

"We had the elves bring your personal items," his mum said, following his gaze, "You can put them away later, but now it's time for breakfast." She stood and said, mock-sternly, "The first rule of this household, young Harlow, is that all breakfasts taste the best in your pajamas. I expect you to be seated at the breakfast table looking suitably tired and ruffled, young man," she waggled a finger at him and Harry laughed. He certainly liked the rules of this household. Lily kissed the top of his head and handed him a blue dressing gown to put on top of his bright-yellow pajamas.

Harry looked down at his pajamas. "I look like a bloody canary!" he exclaimed, seeing this clearly even through his sleepy state.

"Language, young man," Lily scowled, and Harry waited for the slap to come, his sleepiness instantly fading as he went alert. Instead, his mother looked at him, and noticing his look, wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. Harry was particularly bewildered by this turn of events, tensing instinctively.

When Lily let go, she ruffled his hair and said quietly to Harry, "Bud, your father, uncles, and I do not believe in corporal punishment. We would never hit you or hurt you, physically, mentally, or emotionally. We would not abuse you, like those _monsters _did," Lily growled out the word. "If you were to ever get in trouble, we would all sit down and have a long talk about what you did wrong. And then, if you were in need of punishment, we would take away privileges such as flying or not being able to write to your friends for a couple of days." Lily pushed Harry's chin up, who was looking at the floor, studiously avoiding her gaze. "Bud, do you believe me that we would never hurt you?" she asked quietly.

Harry looked into his mother's eyes. He had instantly wanted to protest that he never thought they would hurt him, but that was untrue. He _had _thought they might think of doing what the Dursleys had done (not to that extent). Harry had been lied to in a lot of his life, and never knew who or what to believe. He trusted very few, and, as he looked into his mother's eyes that radiated only love and comfort, he believed, for the first time, in the fantasy that his parents loved him and would come to take him away from all worries and fears.

"Yes," he whispered. "I do." Many things unsaid went into that, and for the first time in his life, Harry leaned in and hugged someone. It was a very strange but very warm feeling that filled his heart and Lily's eyes with tears, knowing she had finally gained her son's trust.

Lily pulled back and smiled at her son. "Time for breakfast, then?" she asked cheerily, and he smiled as they made their way out the corridor together. Harry's drowsiness set in again, and he blinked as he studied his mother's feet, trying to understand what he saw.

"Mum?" he asked suddenly, "Are those—are those _doe slippers_?"

Lily patted Harry's arm. "The Marauders have a bit of an obsession, dear."

* * *

><p>James had not slept well.<p>

Nightmares plagued him—he was used to nightmares from the aftermath of battles, or his fears seeping into his unconsciousness, but this was different. Scenes of battle and spells had drifted through his mind, like a skipping record. Nothing made sense, they were convoluted and confusing, and the only faces he could make out through the sea of bewildering images were Harry and Neville. One or both of them were featured in every image and scene. James' mind drifted back, replaying the painful images of last night…

_A strange, golden seal that featured the letters 'MA' and various animals circling it drifted in the night sky over a burning building… Harry, Neville, and six others looked over the carnage…_

_Neville and Harry, racing through woods at twilight…_

_A dark room, the only light was flying spells and the single sound that permeated the air was the continuous screaming of, "_Crucio!_" and _"Avada Kedavra!"_… Harry's screams suddenly pierced the air…_

_An ancient house with peeling wallpaper and dusty floors… Harry speaking to a portrait of an old woman, and Neville smirking in the background…_

_A vault in Gringotts, filled with various treasures…Harry and Neville triumphantly holding a small, golden cup…_

_A pub in Hogsmeade—the Hog's Head—packed with students, Neville, Harry, two redheads, a black boy, and a blonde girl all standing in the front of the room…_

_A stone chamber with cavernous ceilings, and a statue of a monkey-ish faced man peering unseeingly through the green gloom…Harry and Neville, standing in front of the corpse of a huge snake…_

_An empty hallway in Hogwarts…Harry pressed a hand against a wall, looking each way for intruders and hissed a password…_

_Harry, underwater, swimming and fighting his way through plants and creatures, legs and arms oddly fish-like; gills on his throat…_

_Harry in the graveyard again, and Voldemort triumphantly hissing, _"Avada Kedavra!"

_"NOO!" James had sat bolted upright in bed, the only thing that kept Lily still sleeping next to him was the silencing wards he had put up. James tried to calm his breathing, which was coming fast and erratic, and his heart raced like he just won a Quidditch match. He shut his eyes._

_"They're dreams, just dreams," he told himself. "Calm down," he said firmly._

_Just then, a soft, muted golden light filled the air and a letter fluttered down._

_"GFW, again?" James asked, happy for the distraction. He pondered waking up Lily, but on the letter, which was folded, was written, _Lord Jameson Potter. _Hesitantly, snatching his wand from the bedside table, he carefully opened the letter:_

Lord Jameson,

At this point in time, you have been suffering strange nightmares every time you go to sleep. I am afraid I am the cause for that. Unlike Dumbledore, I will tell you the cause for your unnecessary suffering.

When I brought you back to life, I changed many peoples' futures (on purpose and for the better, I assure you). I could see the people's paths I had changed, as I was the one that had changed them. Even though I brought you back to life and I can see certain peoples' future, the future is always changing. Many different things could happen because of one choice.

Dumbledore fears the future. It is the unknown, and he cannot control it. He cannot tell if he will come out on top. As such, that is why he manipulates people: to secure his own gain.

The reason I brought you back to life is because you are people of action, and also people who should not have been killed or incarcerated. I know you will do what is best for the world and for my family (which you and your son know). I know that you will bring down Dumbledore and Voldemort, and secure a better future for all of us.

I also know, that while you will include your son in trying to bring down Voldemort and Dumbledore, he will be restless and try to help you rather than just spying on Dumbledore. While I see many futures, there is one future I see that I am almost certain will be true. In this future, your son and 'nephew' will take some matters into their own hands. I am giving you the information of the futures I know in the form of dreams. Some might happen; some might not. Some dreams will have a "focus" and some will not. The ones _without_ the "focus" you will see images and scenes, muddled and mostly blackness, you will not be able to describe them; don't come true. The ones with a "focus" you will be able to describe. There are two different kinds of "focused" dreams: there will be "shorted focused" dreams, where there are short clips of images. There will also be "long focused" dreams, which are entire scenes of the futures. You will usually only have one or two "long focused" sequences of the future in dreams when you have them. These focused dreams are futures that will most likely happen.

You will probably only be able to remember the "long focused" dreams clearly.

I hope you understand,

GFW

_James, shaken, grabbed a dressing gown and slipped the letter and his wand in the pocket. He got out of bed, walking to a spiral staircase in the corner of the master bedroom. Lighting his wand, he staggered down the stairs to the study, where it ended: still shaken from his dream. James padded over the carpeted floor to a bookcase behind the desk, running his hand over an old, blue, leather-bound book, called "Veritas Memoriam."_

_The book slid into the bookcase, and with a clinking noise, the crease between two bookcases slid apart to reveal a pensieve hidden in an alcove, casting an eerie blue light over the room and throwing shadows through the air._

_Raising his wand in a shaking hand, he drew the memories of the dream out and flicked them into them into the pensieve. As he watched them again; they made no sense and were unclear. Like GFW had written, while the vision had a "focus", it was a shorter one and the scenes were unclear and he couldn't remember them properly. It was a "shortened focused" dream._

_Sighing, he drew himself out of the pensieve. Abandoning the hope of sleeping, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen._

James shivered involuntarily, though he was wrapped in a robe and his stag slippers and the sunlight streamed through the window of the family kitchen, it did nothing to quell the chill of the memories. _And the sting, _he added silently. _Harry… _That was the only thing he could remember: the dreams had something to do with Harry getting lots of trouble.

"You look like dog sh—" was Sirius'ss greeting as he stumbled into the room.

Remus, who came into the room behind him, cut him off with a, "'Morning."

James agreed with Sirius, though. He had been sitting in the kitchen for the past three hours nursing an untouched cup of tea and had been woken up at four in the morning from dreams. His hair was messier than usual, his skin was as pale as a ghost, and the bags under his eyes clearly spoke of his sleep-deprived state. He looked like a zombie.

Granted, neither of them looked good, either. Sirius'ss hair was a mess as were his pajamas; his dog slippers were on the wrong feet, and his robe was inside-out. Black rings were present under Remus' eyes and his hair was tousled, but he looked much more put together than Sirius or James. And, of course, his pajamas and wolf-slippers looked pristine.

Sirius, whose head was lying on his plate and seemed to be asleep, noted this and said, "We have to de-age you, Remmy. You're too adult-like and stuff. Perfect."

Remus ignored Sirius, and said to James, "Sirius was right, though. You look terrible."

"Thanks," James said sarcastically, trying and failing to cover a yawn.

"Mate, did you actually get any sleep last night?" Sirius asked.

"No, I…" James paused. Should he tell them? He immediately decided to. He didn't keep secrets from his brothers. It would be easier to make sense of, too, with Remus' brain. "I'll tell you later," he said hastily, as Lily dragged along a sleepy Harry who stumbled into the room.

Harry looked around at the table as though he had never seen it before and Lily took pity on him and steered him into a chair next to Remus, Lily sitting on his other side. Harry blinked rapidly as though he forgot he was supposed to be at breakfast and promptly buried his head in his arms.

"Not a morning person, cub?" Remus asked, chuckling.

"Ugh…" was Harry's muffled response. "Sl'p."

Remus patted his head.

Regulus staggered in quite like Sirius and sat down next to him. Minerva, some how managing to look intimidating and prim in a tartan dressing gown, came down soon after, and Augusta came in wearing robes ("I refuse to go anywhere except bed not properly dressed," she sniffed). while Frank was being poked in the back by Alice to keep moving. Neville also looked quite chipper, like his mother, and looked at Lily in sympathy as she tried to explain to a groggy Harry that they were supposed to be eating breakfast.

"You tried to wake up Mr. Sleepy?" Neville grinned. His response was Harry chucking a spoon at him, which missed by about six feet.

"Sh't 'p," Harry groaned.

Lily looked at Harry exasperatedly. "What is his problem?"

Neville chuckled as he seated himself next to Alice. "You're a lucky one. He turned Dean's hair purple when he tried to wake Harry up. It didn't come off all day."

Remus looked at Harry warily. "At least he doesn't sleep-hex like his creature of a father. Or hit, like his—" he glanced nervously at Lily, who was glaring dangerously at him, "—_flower _of a mother."

"Nice save," Sirius muttered, having been on the receiving end of Lily's temper one too many times.

"He does both, unfortunately," Neville shuddered. "It was fine, first year, when he didn't know any spells, but when Ron woke up as a pink and blue-polka-dotted kitten for waking Harry, covered in bruises ("He des'rved 't!" exclaimed a disgruntled Harry)," Neville grinned at the memory, but it faded to a grimace at the implication, "We decided an indestructible alarm clock might be in order."

"Suddenly mornings make so much more sense," Minerva raised an eyebrow, "I suspect that is why Mr. Weasley spent a day in the hospital wing and came out with pink hair?"

Neville smirked. "I got some good blackmail photos, too."

Breakfast arriving cut off the rest of the conversation; a couple elves came in and put the trays of food on the table. Everyone thanked the house elves, and turned to the food.

As breakfast came to an end (Sirius bolting down his fifth plate of food) and everyone slowly woke up, the conversation turned to serious matters. Neville and Harry wanted to know what the big deal was with Dumbledore—Neville having been filled in that Dumbledore was "no longer a friend" by his parents—but all the adults insisted that they go to the study.

As everyone—and an increasingly irritated Neville and Harry—tromped in the study, (still in their pajamas), they all took seats at the table. Frank and James sat at the heads, Harry and Neville on their respective rights, and Lily and Alice on the heads' respective lefts. Minerva sat on the right of Harry, across from Remus. Regulus next to him, across from Sirius, who was next to an empty seat, Augusta on the other side of the seat, next to Neville. Next to Regulus were two unoccupied seats, Alice on the other side of them.

Harry looked around at the table, unconsciously swallowing. _Whatever this is, Dumbledore must be in big trouble…_everyone at the table looked intimidating and severe. Though, he had to admit he couldn't help but stifle snickers as they were all wearing their pajamas - and decorative slippers, of course.

"Harry," James started. "We've—our family—has always been a target because we have opposed Voldemort, along with being a supposed Light family." This drew a curious look from Regulus, but the rest seemed unsurprised. Remus, who was closest, quickly hissed an explanation to him, "We escaped him three times. Both the Longbottoms and us. Along with the Longbottoms, Voldemort especially targeted us. Do you know why Voldemort targeted us, in particular?"

"No," said Harry honestly. "I asked Dumbledore, though. He wouldn't tell me. I supposed it was because you were working against him."

James' facial muscles tightened. "It was because of a prophecy. A prophecy made by Sybil Trelawney to Dumbledore," Harry and Neville's shocked looks were enough to make everyone give a tight smile. "Yes, she's a real Seer. Just not a very good one. The prophecy goes like this:

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. … The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_"

Harry sagged against the chair. The words of the prophecy echoed in his head, as he spun and wove them, trying to figure them out. But other than that, his mind seemed blank; he could not focus on his father, mother, Remus, and Sirius'ss worried glances, or Minerva or Augusta's sympathetic eyes. He could not see Neville visibly shaking, or Frank and Alice's stony faces.

He remembered his father's words, _"Along with the Longbottoms, we were especially targeted by Voldemort." _and Trelawney's voice, _"Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies." _Neville was born in July. July thirtieth.

"So it was Harry or Neville," Regulus took the words out of Harry's mouth. "I knew that Voldemort was looking to destroy the prophecy's chances…but I didn't know the specific wording." Regulus' brow furrowed. "Or the last part. Voldemort kept the wording secret, only that it had to do with a baby born to either the Potters or Longbottoms. _He_ never heard the last part, either." Regulus spat the 'he' like venom in his mouth.

Harry shot a curious look at Regulus, happy for the distraction, along with Minerva, Augusta, Frank, Alice, and Neville.

Regulus shifted uncomfortably. "I suppose you have a right to know…you're going to find out soon, anyway," he sighed, "I was a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's slaves," He answered Harry's questioning glance, "Or follower, if you wish to think better of yourself," he added sarcastically. "And I…when I was a recruit, I didn't have my Mark at the time. I was in seventh year and I was at a raid and I dueled…Sirius, my brother," Regulus and Sirius's faces were pained. "It was…it put it in perspective," he said bitterly. "It was the last time I spoke to him, even though I would see him passing occasionally. Anyway, when I was in seventh year, I stopped. Going to raids and things, I mean. And I…" a blush tinted his cheeks and his eyes got cold and hard. "I fell in love with a girl. A Muggle-born, actually. Her name was Emmeline." He cleared his throat as the blush got deeper and Sirius's grin at his little brother's embarrassment got wider. "After seventh year graduation, we got married. We spent a year together before my mother started wondering where I was - she was insane, had no perception of time - as I never showed up or told her anything about backing out of the Death Eaters. I went to her house with Emmeline; prepared to tell her I was done with the Death Eaters and pureblood supremacy."

Regulus' face crumpled, but his eyes were like steel.

"That's when things went wrong. Bellatrix, Lucius, Rudolphus, and Rabastan showed up and ambushed me. I told Emmeline to run, and she did. I didn't give her a choice. I shoved her out the door and went to duel them, but I wasn't prepared. They knocked me out and dragged me to Voldemort. He branded me with the Dark Mark: his insignia. The mark of his followers and their loyalty to him." Regulus rolled up his left sleeve. There was collective gasp at the ugly, blistered skin there. It was obvious it was in the shape of a skull with a snake through it, but it had burned badly and the skin seemed to have been scraped off. Harry looked at in perverse fascination. He knew, unlike with Snape, that Regulus was not a Death Eater. Not truly. He could tell and _feel _it by looking in his eyes and seeing the pure misery and hate for Voldemort on his face. _And he had never been, _Harry thought miserably, knowing that this was another person condemned by Voldemort's actions.

"Your defiance," Sirius whispered.

Regulus gave a curt nod and continued on with his story, "The Black family is a powerful and influential family. They are a Dark and terrible family by trade, priding themselves on being purebloods. Many are insane, locked up in Azkaban, or dead. They killed a lot of people, hated half-bloods, Muggle-borns, and any kind of creature - they included Muggles in that category. Obviously, they liked the idea of Voldemort. He was happy to have them. The _loyal_," Regulus enunciated the word, "Blacks knew spells and had objects he wouldn't be able to get through normal channels. Not only that, but they had money. As presumed heir," Regulus glanced at Sirius, making it obvious that Sirius was still heir, no matter his blatant distaste of the Dark family, "They thought I had access to the vast fortunes. They were running low on money, you see," Regulus explained. "While the Lestranges, Malfoys, Notts, and Averys have fortunes, they can't give away their entire fortunes or take to much out without causing suspicion. They are relatively young families and are all known for being very conservative with their money - Slytheirn-style, of course. The Potters, Longbottoms, and Blacks have lots of money piled up. No one would question one us," he gestured to Sirius, Frank, James, and himself, "taking out tons of money for our newest 'project'. We are all very old, very…um…_eclectic _families," Regulus grimaced, along with the rest of the room. "None of our families are known for being the most sane. The Potters are arrogant, megalomaniac mass-murderers, the Longbottoms like their 'experiments', and the Blacks, of course, like to take over the political, financial, and even physical capitals. Those are stereotypes, of course, but stereotypes start somewhere."

Harry, somehow, wasn't very surprised by this.

Regulus sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in what seemed like an effort to ward back memories.

"After they branded me, they tossed me out and told me to come for the next Death Eater meeting. Bellatrix confronted me. She told me she'd seen Emmeline, and that she was going to track her down. 'After your little mudblooded wench is gone,' she said, 'your loyalty will be solely to our Lord.'"

Regulus pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes as, unnoticed to him, a tear traced its way down his face.

"I told her I would never be loyal," Regulus grinned weakly, "And told her that she was a bitch who would burn in hell, but not before I used her favorite curse on her."

"Pretty Gryffindor-ish of you, Reggie," Sirius said softly, a slight smile on his lips, but eyes full of sadness, "if I do say so myself. I always wanted to tell Bellabitch to stuff it."

Harry was lost on the finer points of the conversation, but he knew well enough that if they were talking about Bellatrix Lestrange, she was the Death Eater who tortured Neville's parents. She sounded like a nasty piece of work. He listened carefully to the morbid words that flew out of Regulus' mouth, unhindered, and Harry realized that Regulus must've alone for a very long, very depressing time. The words were truthful—there was no doubt—they were almost _too _truthful, the emotions oozing from the words, dripping off with suppressed emotions made Harry look at the man with understanding.

He knew, from experience, that that kind words and sympathetic looks were not what one wanted. He had suffered heartbreak and hate—growing up unloved, unwanted, and abused, put through dangerous tasks, he knew the burden of losing someone you loved and having to deal with people who did not care one bit about it, who remind you about your failures and your sufferings. In fact, they would rub it in your face.

Regulus caught the look, and he nodded, even with confusion evident in his eyes.

"I became obsessed. I wanted revenge—that Voldemort would pay for taking me away from my Emmeline," Regulus said darkly. "He was going on about immortality. How he was the furthest along the road than anyone else. He would boast about it and gloat. I think Voldemort thought we were too stupid to figure out what he was talking about. Voldemort believes he is more powerful, smarter, cunning, and just plain better than anyone else," Regulus grimaced. "He's also insane. Voldemort's ego is his downfall. I don't believe he realized that some of us could guess what lengths he went to for immortality. Many didn't care to look into the matter, even if they did know. It would be their instant death, most presumed. But I did.

"Three years after I found this, I had tracked one of the—the—_abominations _he made. He had used my house-elf, Kreacher, to place it in a cave, where he hid it under lots of extensive protection."

Regulus squeezed his eyes tightly.

"Bellatrix…before I went to the cave, before I could start planning…she came and told me…" he let out a gasp of like it pained him, "told me…that…that…she killed…Emme…"

This seemed to be too much for Regulus, as Harry realized with a jerk, it had been just yesterday in his timeline—if Harry's calculations were correct and Regulus died getting whatever he was looking for—that he found this news.

Everyone listened with rapt attention in morbid silence, as Sirius stood up and walked around to Regulus, putting a hand on his shoulders. He made no further move to comfort him, but somehow, this seemed to be more than enough to keep him going.

"I was angry…so, so angry…" Regulus whispered hoarsely. "I blasted Bellatrix through the door." Sirius grinned, despite the atmosphere, "And I burned off my Mark. I scraped it and tore at it desperate to get off that _thing,_" Regulus spat. "That cost me Emme." Horror and disgust seeped into the room, making the colorful study seem to get darker. Even the sun seemed to dim. "I wanted revenge, and I could finally get it." Regulus' voice suddenly got very flat.

"I was within reach of killing off one part of Voldemort." There were looks of dawning comprehension of Augusta, Minerva, Lily, Sirius, and Frank's faces, but everyone kept the silence, morbidly fascinated with the macabre tale.

"I forgot about everything else and Apparated to the cave. There was," Regulus shivered, "a poison. I don't know what it was…" he trailed off, "I kept relieving my most horrible memories and I was thirsty…so very thirsty."

"The Drink of Despair," Lily muttered, horrified.

"And as I reached down to the lake to drink," Regulus' eyes were unfocused and hazy, "hands grabbed me. Inferi, I think…" he shrugged helplessly. "I had told Kreacher to leave and destroy the locket…and then I was…" he tilted his head to the side like a curious child, "…drowning. And everything went black."

Silence followed this poignant statement.

Regulus was still staring unseeingly out the window opposite him, and Sirius glanced at his brother (a look that clearly read, "We'll talk later.") and cleared his throat loudly, "You were saying, James?"

Harry, as grossly fascinated as he was with Regulus' tale, shut his eyes and let the words come rushing back.

So.

He was supposed to kill Voldemort.

Or die in the attempt.

No one else could.

He was destined to kill or be killed.

With some mystical power he knew nothing of.

(And was willing to bet Dumbledore would call it "love.")

_Dumbledore…_

So.

Suddenly, Harry was desperate to deny that.

"Why is it me?" he demanded. "What makes it me? There are plenty of boys born at the end of July!" The room—despite being the size of a gym—abruptly felt very confining. Frantically, Harry paced the length of a table, "Is it Neville? What about another boy? Or maybe even some Muggle with a gun!" Harry threw his hands up in desperation. "What makes it me?" his voice suddenly lost all its fervor and volume as his hands fell limply at his sides and he stared around in hopelessness. He vaguely wondered why he was not told this sooner, but he shoved that thought in the back of his mind. Dumbledore must've had his reasons, Harry thought dismissively. He always did.

James and Lily were looking at love and compassion in their eyes, as were Remus and Sirius.

"Because he marked you," Remus said quietly. "He had a choice: you or Neville. He chose you because you were a half-blood, like him. At least, that's our guess. And I think you know what he marked you with. And, in doing so, he marked you as his equal. Something he could not stand."

Harry raised a hesitant hand to his scar. _The source of all my troubles, _he thought bitterly.

As if reading Harry's thoughts, Lily said, "We're not worried about the prophecy, though. Though flaky and unreliable as they are, they always come true. You can do nothing to force, stop, or confine it. However," she rose and pulled a limp Harry into a hug, even though he did not respond. "They come true in their own time. We are however, worried about something else."

Harry full of relief and disbelief, looked as his mum. "What?" he asked hesitantly.

"The implications," she said gravely. "We are worried about who would try to force you; the main part of this prophecy. Destroy you. Or control you. _Manipulate_ you; you with the power to take down Voldemort."

And suddenly, everything made sense.

* * *

><p>Severus Snape was not a stupid man by any means. He was a cunning, resilient person: as you had to be to live the life of a spy. <em>And put up with someone as slippery as the Marauders during school.<em> As vague as the thought was, it was still tempered with enough hate to make the devil green with envy. Snape drifted like a wraith as he made his way through the empty corridors to the Headmaster's office.

Snape was not stupid enough to doubt that McGonagall's abrupt disappearance (with a hastily scrawled note about a sick cat) and the Headmaster's summoning were related. But he also loathed to actually _do_ whatever job he required.

After all, how could you be a good Slytherin and not be aware of Dumbledore's constant manipulations?

But, he had sold his soul to the man for Lily - who was completely loyal to Dumbledore - and would stay for Lily. Even if it meant protecting Potter's arrogant son. _Because Lily would never have had such a bigheaded son…_He was Potter's son. That was firmly lodged in Snape's mind. Not Lily's. Because she was Lily Evans to him, not Lily Potter, and would always be.

He hated every Potter, and would always curse the lineage to the depths of hell.

That included Minerva McGonagall, who was Potter Senior's great-aunt and godmother; who, though he hated, he had grudging respect for. Apparently, Potter hair did not skip women. Why else did she keep it in a stiff bun? Snape's respect, though, was for how sneaky the old tart was. That seemed to be the most damnable trait—in Snape's mind—that all Potters carried. That the epitomes of Gryffindor had the insolence to display traits of _his _house, Slytherin!

Snape spat out at the gargoyle, "Cockroach cluster." As the guardian moved aside, he sneered at the wall. He swore Dumbledore made up those ridiculous passwords just to hear him say them.

While he prayed to any higher being (though he hadn't had much luck with that in his life) that Potter wasn't involved, he took one look at Dumbledore's irritated face and the unusually-still spindly instruments and couldn't help but internally groan.

_So you've finally slipped your leash, Potter? _Snape couldn't help but mentally applaud the boy for making Dumbledore so irritated, even if it was _Potter_. He inwardly sneered, _took you long enough, _as he glided over to the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"Ah, Severus. Where is Minerva? I need your help with a situation involving young Mr. Potter."

Remembering McGonagall's note, he simply stared at Dumbledore, and said bitingly, "If you've noticed, Headmaster, Minerva had to go home. Something about a sick cat," he scorned.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Never mind. You can do this job alone, then. You see, the wards around the Dursleys' house have fallen dramatically. I will need you to go check them, while I search for Mr. Potter, who seems to have slipped off my radar," he punctuated the sentence with an eye twinkle.

Snape looked at Dumbledore with his usual blank mask, but inside his Occlumency barriers he was gaping rather unattractively at the old man with disbelief. He couldn't have really _bought _McGonagall's excuse, could he? And Potter hadn't just "slipped off" his radar! The old tabby probably finally wised up and dragged Potter Junior away from Dumbledore's manipulations.

Snape knew that McGonagall and Dumbledore had had a vicious fight when it came to Potter's guardianship. McGonagall had wanted to raise him, as she was his great-great-aunt, Dumbledore had insisted that Potter stay with the Dursleys' for the blood wards. He thought that it was better that Potter was raised unspoiled and unaware, and Snape completely agreed. They already had him running around as a miniature James Potter, and they didn't need Potter Jr. to take after Senior anymore than he already did. Snape wasn't sure what finally convinced her to stop, but she had been furious with the Headmaster for the better part of three years. Never say Potters don't hold grudges.

Sighing, he saw no way out of the task and billowed out of the room—not before giving Dumbledore a parting sneer—and left to find out what mess Potter had created now.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or JKR's works.

Up next:

_Explanation to the Manipulation_


	16. Memories…

_Chapter Fifteen_

_Memories…_

_In the Pensieve:_

Regulus had always carefully built walls around himself to keep anyone from knowing who he truly was: who he cared about, his secrets, his passions, and what he felt was important. That was what you had to do to survive an abusive mother, being in the Slytherin hierarchy, and being a traitorous Death Eater. The only people who had ever truly known he was; had managing to break his carefully constructed façade were Sirius - his brother - and Emmeline - his wife.

For some reason, Harry Potter, even in memory form, seemed to be trying to do just that.

Regulus and Sirius were really the only ones who had known what to expect from the memories of an abused child: they, themselves, had been ones. Remus, too, it seemed was more prepared then the rest, but even he was horrified.

As was Regulus.

While Walburga had been an abusive mother, she was not as bad as the Dursleys. Withholding food while growing up, hits and slaps as teens, and curses as young adults with colorful language all through the ages, that was Walburga Black.

The Dursleys, though, were just…cruel.

The physical abuse was not as bad as everyone feared it would be. A beating, every six months, and withholding food just about once a week, but it was obviously the mental and emotional abuse they were aiming for.

They burned pictures of Lily and James in front of an eight-year-old Harry, they sneered at him wondering where his parents were at age four, and laughed in his face at age six asking if they would come for Parents' Day.

Regulus felt sick. Even his mother was not that cruel. Sirius seemed to have the same thoughts. But by the time they got to Harry's first Hogwarts letter, he seemed so resigned to the cruelty it was just…sad. He simply seemed like he needed a hug.

Harry's second birthday, however, caused his heart to wrench.

_Harry sniffled, lying in his cupboard with a diaper rash and looked underfed, deep purple circles under his eyes and bones very visible through his skin._

_"Mama…" he whimpered, "Dada?" tears leaking through his lids._

Lily burst into tears, leaning against James, sobs wracking her body, as James buried his face in her hair, which was now stained with his tears.

_There was no response._

_"Pa'fut?" Harry tried again, his voice reaching urgency._

Sirius sucked in a sharp breath. Regulus did not point out the wetness in his eyes.

"_Mo'y!" he cried, balling his little fists and kicking his feet in the air._

Remus closed his eyes and opened them again. Regulus thought he saw them flare gold for a minute.

"I'm so sorry, cub." He muttered, pressing his hands to his face.

_"Mama, back!" he screamed, "Dada, where you?"_

Lily couldn't seem to take it anymore and flung herself into a kneeling position near his cot. She tried to touch him, but her hand went right through his body. Lily sobbed even harder, "I'm here, baby! I won't let you go, not anymore!"

James leaned down and gathered her in his arms, as she sobbed on his shoulder, he held her, eyes squeezed shut and tears leaking through. He looked in turmoil, watching his son with some perverse fascination: like he wanted to be anywhere else but here, but yet could not look away.

_A woman with a horsey structure and hate-filled, cruel brown eyes flung the cupboard door open._

_"They're not here, freak!" she screeched._

_"Mama," Harry whimpered, "Dada."_

_"Shut up, freak!" Petunia screamed. She raised her hand and smacked him straight across the face. "No dinner for you tonight, disgusting mutant!"_

"Tuny!" Lily shrieked, anger filling her eyes, so unlike her sister's. "How could you?" she screamed, slamming her fists into her thighs. _"My son! My _son!" she screamed with venom, _"You are no sister of mine, Petunia! NOT ANYMORE! _NEVER AGAIN!_"_

James clutched her upper arms, holding her back from hitting phantom-Petunia.

_She slammed the door shut and Harry quieted, adult-like despair filling his young features._

_"Mama. Dada. Pa'fut. Mo'y," He moaned, clutching his brightred cheek, "Where you?"_

"Here now," Regulus heard the four whisper.

Hogwarts was no better. Full of Dumbledore's manipulations, Voldemort's followers and traps, cruel pre-pubescent teens, mindless, rumor-embracing sheep, and slandering press, the castle school seemed to be Harry's private hell.

It also seemed to be James and Lily's, also. Even though the group had seen the memory at least half-an-hour ago, (not that Remus or Sirius were much better), the two were still crying.

_They were in a cavernous, stone room. The light of the room was tinted with green and the walls and floor were slimy and wet. There was a statue of a monkeyish-faced man against the wall, and Regulus recognized it as the founder of his house; the Slytherin common rooms had held a statue very much like the one in front of Harry._

_Harry was covered in grime and stood in front of the prone figure of a small, redheaded girl, and a young Tom Riddle, who was glowing slightly, like a ghost. In between them the small, black diary lay innocuously._

_"…You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet…"_

Regulus shivered involuntarily. He did not like to hear his former "master's" voice. Sirius put a hand on his shoulder.

James' breath hitched when Riddle said, _"Haven't I already told you," said Riddle quietly, "that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been — you."_

Lily looked faint. She clutched James tightly as she swayed dangerously on the spot.

Regulus silently prayed that Harry would use Riddle's bragging time to run away. However, his hopes were crushed when Harry, who seemed to have gone into shock, finally said, _"You're not," his quiet voice full of hatred._

James seemed to be holding his breath. Lily moaned, "Don't taunt him, Harry!"

_"Not what?" snapped Riddle._

Sirius's eyes widened comically. "Don't make him angry!" he shouted, like Harry could hear him.

"_Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," said Harry, breathing fast. "Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore."_

"Not sure if he still thinks that," Regulus muttered, but not loud enough for the others to hear.

"_Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days —"_

Remus had bitten his tongue so hard it bled.

"Shut up, cub," he groaned.

_The smile had gone from Riddle's face, to be replaced by a very ugly look._

Lily was taking very quick, shallow gasps of air. James was pale and clutching Lily tightly. His eyes were wide; with shock, anger, or fear, Regulus was not certain. Sirius looked like he had been punched in the gut. Remus was struck speechless.

Tom Riddle was officially angry.

"_Speak to me, Salazar Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!"_

_The mouth of Slytherin's statue slowly opened. A mighty snake, almost sixty feet in length, with acid-green hide slithered out. It had foot-long fangs that glittered with venom in the gloom. As it was a pensieve, they could see the lamp-like, bright yellow eyes without fear of being petrified. A basilisk._

There was complete silence in the pensieve.

_Riddle hissed, "Kill him."_

Lily's breathing hitched.

_Fawkes flew in and gouged out the eyes, but Riddle kept shrieking, "NO! LEAVE THE BIRD! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU. YOU CAN STILL SMELL HIM. KILL HIM!"_

Sirius closed his eyes as Harry pulled Gryffindor's sword out of the hat and swung, trying to kill the basilisk.

_Finally, Harry swung true, the sword going through the mouth of the basilisk._

Regulus was dumbfounded that Harry managed to kill the basilisk, but more than a little relieved (not that he would ever admit it) that Harry survived. He frowned at his brother, who was pinching his nose and biting his lip, not looking at Harry.

_Harry stumbled away from the carcass, a fang embedded in his upper arm. He knelt near the almost-lifeless Ginny, as Riddle stood over him. Harry yanked the fang out of his arm, but he was rapidly paling._

Regulus looked at him in shock. It was too late. Lily was sobbing uncontrollably, tears staining her clothes and makeup running down her cheeks, and James still seemed to be partially catatonic.

"_You're dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle's voice above him. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter? He's crying."_

Regulus remembered vaguely something about phoenixes. They had…healing powers, wasn't it? Regulus held on to that. And Harry had to get out of this alive; he was upstairs.

"_I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry."_

Lily finally let out a shriek of rage and screamed, "HOW DARE YOU! _HOW DARE YOU! MY BABY! YOU CAN'T JUST STAND THERE WHILE YOU KILL _MY BABY! _My baby…" _she mumbled almost incoherently, collapsing on the floor, tears streaming down her face. "My baby…"

James let out a snarl as he swept Lily into his arms, glaring a fiery death on Tom Riddle.

_Harry shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. Color was coming back to his face, and he grabbed the fang, plunging it into his dairy._

Regulus was suspicious at the screaming the diary had done. He concluded it was a horcrux, and that scared him slightly. Voldemort had made more than one. He had suspected it, now he had conclusive proof.

_As Riddle disappeared with one last scream, Ginny woke with a start, bursting into tears at the sight of the diary. Hogwarts was now safe once again._

Regulus frankly didn't understand how Harry loved the school so much. Even at times of peace, someone always hated him. He supposed his friends, Ron and Hermione, might help with that; yet they both had their fair share of fights, with or without Harry involved.

Regulus felt his respect growing for the Boy-Who-Lived, but also felt his sympathy deepen. He understood the glance of empathy that the boy had given him: he understood what it was like loose people. People you cared about. Anger rose in him as he saw Dumbledore renew compulsion charms and use Legilimency on him, fill his food with potions, and blatantly use him as a tool.

Regulus realized, belatedly, that the kid was Sirius's magically and blood adopted son. (The whole pretence on that was so that if anything happened to the Potters, Sirius could take him wherever he wanted, regardless of the laws and paperwork usually involved in the transfer of guardianship.) His nephew. Somehow, he thought, scowling at his own softness, that didn't seem so bad.

The memories had flip-flopped, showing what Harry and Neville were doing at the same points in time. For example, it showed Harry's fourth birthday (lying in his cupboard) and then Neville's, (unwrapping a few presents while Augusta watched with a slight smile on her face).

Neville's past was not as bad as Harry's. Augusta was strict, but she cared for him and loved him, Neville knew that. She knew that Algernon, Neville's great-uncle, kept trying to "force" the magic out of him, and had promptly banned him from visiting when she saw smack him with a shovel. Algernon had only come over twice a year since that incident when Neville was five, being watched like a hawk by Augusta the entire time.

Augusta was distraught when she saw the next year, after the Longbottoms' annual Christmas party:

_"So, have you shown any magic lately, Squib?" he jeered at Neville. The little six-year-old trembled._

_"No, shir," he mumbled, quivering._

_Algernon smacked him straight across the face, sending him flying to the floor._

Frank roared in anger and Alice shrieked in outrage. Augusta shook violently, clutching Minerva's shoulder tightly.

_"Speak up, boy!" he sneered. "And stand straight!"_

_A shaking Neville got to his feet, "No, sir," he enunciated clearly, squeaking slightly at the end as Algernon drew his wand._

_"Well, we'll have to fix that won't we?" he questioned, snarling. "No heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Longbottom can be a squib! If you can't show magic correctly, we'll have to force it out of you. _Conteramosis!" _He fired off, a jet of bright light shot through the air and Neville crumpled, his shinbone breaking with a loud SNAP._

Deadly silence ensued from the two Longbottom parents as Augusta quivered like a leaf.

"He fired a bone-breaking curse at _my son_," Frank enunciated the last two words very clearly to remind everyone that Algernon Longbottom would not get away with this abuse.

Alice was caught between heartbreak and anger, tears leaking out her eyes as she violently cursed, her hold on Frank becoming a death grip.

All was not done for the Longbottoms: they watched the curses get more violent and savage as Algernon and Neville's ages increased, the former determined to make sure the heir to the House of Longbottom had "at least _one _modicum of magic", as the man so kindly put it.

Regulus felt his empathy increase for the Longbottom boy, too. The boy was gifted in Herbology and had a real sense of humor that he only seemed to be able to share with plants and house-elves, as he didn't have any friends and Augusta had to take care of the estate.

But seeing all the damage Dumbledore had done, to his brother, his nephew, and his cousins—and to _children, _no less—it left no doubt in Regulus' mind that he was going to pay the price for his actions.

What was it the Muggles say?

Revenge is sweet.

* * *

><p>Harry watched through his six-month old eyes as his grandmother ("Ga'ma" in his baby-speak) tickled him mercilessly.<p>

Dorea Black was what was called a "metamorphmagus". She could change her appearance at will. There were different levels of metamorphmagi, though, as the difference between her and Harry's cousin, Nymphadora Tonks, was that Nymmie had complete control over all of her features and could change her hair pink, purple, or blue, could grow three feet, and make her nose ten inches longer. Dorea only had control over her hair; and even then she could only change it different shades of red, brown, blonde, and black.

The Blacks, her birth family, prided themselves on being recognizable: olive complexion, wavy black hair, gray eyes, high cheekbones, and a sharp jaw. Dorea was picture-perfect with all of these traits, except for the fact that she was a natural redhead.

From a young age she had worn her hair black, the way her parents wanted it, and had been the epitome of a pureblood-princess. (At least in Black standards.) She sneered at Muggles and Muggle-borns (though she seemed rather indifferent on the subject), acted like she walked on air, basically made everyone think they were below her, was cold and concise in public matters, and gave no hint of emotion.

In reality, though, that was just Dorea's façade (well, somewhat). In private, she cared very much about her family and welcomed Lily to the Potters' household with open arms. She only wanted to protect those she cared about and her family to be happy.

The memories Harry had watched had all been from year and a half he had lived with his parents. It had started a couple hours after his birth, in St. Mungo's. Harry had watched memory after memory of his father or mother holding him, singing to him, telling them they loved him, and playing with him.

He had seen Sirius before Azkaban; how he always had a smile on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and how he came over every afternoon to the Potters' cottage in Godric's Hollow. He watched how Sirius would play with him and tell him how much he loved him like his own son.

Harry watched as Remus came over every other afternoon, to read to him and try with Sirius and his father to get him to talk. Remus and Sirius would pick him up and swing him around in the air when James or Lily wasn't looking, and Harry had seen what happened when they had gotten caught doing that one time. The incident, funnily enough, had resulted in his first words.

Harry had to stifle a laugh as he watched the memory.

_Sirius swung him up high in the air, eliciting a giggle from his one-year-old self. Remus laughed and caught Harry, throwing him back to Sirius, who swung him up again, only—_

"_WHAT. THE. _HELL. _DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING WITH MY SON?" came the roar and James barged into the room, snatching Harry out of the air, who only giggled._

"_Come on, Prongsie," Sirius tried for a smile, no doubt thinking about what happened to the Death Eaters who only three days ago tried to snatch Harry out of his carriage while shopping. They were in St. Mungo's, and probably would not make it to Azkaban because of the terrible shape James had left them in. The two Marauders were once again reminded that James was very overprotective of his son. So were Remus and Sirius, but definitely not to that extent. "We were just having fun, weren't we, pup?" he looked to Harry for support._

_Harry just giggled, this time muffled against James' chest._

"_He wasn't hurt, Prongs," Remus tried to sooth, but to no avail as James turned his furious stare on him. "Harry's fine, look! He was having a fun time!"_

_Harry giggled again, "'ell!" he laughed, making the Marauders freeze._

"_Harry," James said cautiously, lifting him to eye-level, "Can you repeat that?"_

_Harry tried unsuccessfully to snatch James' glasses, "'ell!" he laughed._

_Sirius'ss eyes bugged out. "Lily will be here soon!" he whispered frantically._

"_She'll kill us!" Remus said, his voice full of dread._

"_Oh hell," James swore, than promptly shut his mouth as the door rattled and Lily stepped into the room, arms laden with groceries._

"_Hell!" Harry screamed with delight, his words getting more coherent._

_Lily froze and frowned. "James, don't swear!" she scolded, "You know Harry's getting to the point he'll try to copy you to form words!"_

_James unsuccessfully tried to muffle Harry as he clapped his hands and said, fully enunciating the word, "Hell!"_

_The three Marauders froze, to look at Lily who was glaring daggers at James, who was holding the baby in his arms, "Give him here. _Now."

_James walked carefully over to Lily, his legs shaking, and handed her Harry. She put him down on the couch with the groceries and slowly pulled out her wand._

"_You have five seconds to run," she said in a deadly voice. "Five—"_

_Remus scrambled out of the way, pushing Sirius to the ground—_

"—_four—"_

_Sirius ducked into the kitchen, changing into Padfoot as he did so—_

"—_three—"_

_James hurriedly opened the latch of the window, only to find it didn't open—_

"—_two—"_

_Remus ran up the stairs—_

"—_ONE!"_

_James ducked behind the couch, but not before a jinx caught him, turning him bald._

"_YOU ARE CORRUPTING MY SON!" Lily screeched. _"CHILDISH WAYS—MARAUDER GENES—_YOU WILL BE SLEEPING ON THE COUCH,_ JAMESON POTTER!" _she roared, chasing her husband and his friends as they ducked out the back door._

"_Hell!" Harry clapped happily in the background._

Watching his memories, Harry finally felt like he belonged somewhere. (Not only that, but the warm feeling of his magic spreading through his body helped him feel more comfortable, also.) The memories gave Harry the knowledge of the Wizarding world he should've grown up in. He now knew all the sayings; ("There's a cat among the pixies, now." And "No use crying over spilt potion.") and caught all the references; he knew every feature of the magical world; and could probably recite every Quidditch team's score from 1980-1981.

No longer did Harry feel like stranger in the world he was born in. He watched almost two years worth of memories, filled with his mum using magic to cook and clean and his father healing injuries from full moons to decorate his room. Harry had memories of watching a Quidditch game every month and playing with house elves.

Harry didn't feel so lonely any more. He remembered playing with Neville, his best friend, every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday. He also saw himself playing Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, a girl named Luna Lovegood, Terry Boot, Seamus Finnigan, and Michael Corner. (Even one horrific afternoon of having to play with Draco Malfoy for a very long three hours.) While he played with both the Weasley twins and Ron, he played with Neville the most. He was eager to restart the constant companionship Dumbledore had deprived him of.

After watching two years of him being cared for by his parents and godparents, he felt like a piece of him was back. While he was still an independent person, he understood more why he could let his mum, dad, Uncles Moony, Padfoot, and Frank, Aunt Alice and Grandmas Gusta and Minnie take care of him. They loved him and they would help him.

Harry, after watching countless Wizengamot meetings, also understood his position more. While using your position to keep your family safe, you could also keep others safe, too; like Muggle-borns and magical creatures, who were generally sneered at in the Wizarding world.

Harry also had to endure watching his parents, Sirius, and Remus brag about him. When his father brought him into the Auror office everyone was looking to see "Your kid you kept bragging about" as Dawlish put it. It made him blush in embarrassment every time they brought up the newest thing he had done.

Harry had howled with internal laughter as Lucius Malfoy walked into the Auror office sneering, _"This is your child, James? Amazing to see how much he is like you. Let's hope he isn't as…lucky as you." He turned, but before he had walked away, Harry had performed some spectacular accidental magic that transfigured his hair purple and his robes pink with rainbow sequins, his hair grew, along with his chest, to the dismay of Aunt Alice ("Are you mocking me, Malfoy?" She had thundered, even though she knew the real culprit, "Those robes look much better on me than you, unless you are permanently changing your name from Lucius to Lucy, you egotistical, blonde peacock!")._

While watching memories would usually bring a melancholy feel to him, Harry was only filled with joy as he realized that these same people were in the same room as him.

Watching his parents' murders, however, was even harder than before as he knew them as real people. The most disgusting part was when Harry was deposited in Dumbledore's care, before he was left at the Dursleys'.

"_Brat," he had sneered at him. "Well, you'll give me what I want, if nothing else. Binding your magic and magical gifts, erase your memories, compulsion and loyalty charms…" he muttered, checking off his list. "Thank Salazar I could at least use you to steal Charlie's old monitoring devices. Paranoid old bastard. Should've been in Slytherin rather than Gryffindor. Well, at least you'll be easy to sacrifice to Voldemort. Idiot child."_

_He swung Harry into his arms, not at all gently, and shoved him in waiting Hagrid's arms. "Bring him to the Dursleys', Hagrid. It's in Little Whinging, Surrey." He instructed, putting on his grandfatherly-persona before apparating away with a pop._

That wasn't the only time he had seen Dumbledore's manipulations. After both the Chamber of Secrets and Sorcerer's Stone debacles, he had managed to gain independence, at least for a few weeks. Then, he was forcefully shoved back to the Dursleys' and obliviated.

The most recent incident that was obliviated, though, sometime in the spring of his last school year.

Harry had decided to research more about Sirius Black and had come across that he never had a trial. He had also found, that in the Potters' will, which he managed to get a copy of, that Sirius was innocent and had guessed Peter was the one guilty of the charges. He had brought the tale to Dumbledore, who in turn obliviated him.

Again.

"_Potter spawn," the old headmaster spat. "You're a spitting image of your thrice-damned father, meddling in things that aren't your concern! At least once a year you've either gained independence or come to me with proof of my own manipulation. You're more slippery than your bastardly grandfather and grandmother combined. You'll ruin my plans, at this rate!"_

_Harry stepped away, stunned speechless. Incidents and suspicions were connecting in his mind._

_Almost as reading his mind, Dumbledore sneered, "Too clever for your own damn good, Potter. Obliviate!"_

Harry snapped out of his trance, furious at Dumbledore and ready to take control of his life. The old coot had a lot to answer for.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or JKR's works.

A/N:

**ON INDEFINITE HIATUS**

I really, really owe you all an explanation. So, this work's on indefinite hiatus because these chapters that I just uploaded are actually about a year and a half old. (Dumbledore wasn't terribly in character, was he? *sheepish, awkward laugh*) During that year and half, I'd done many more (very incomplete) works and started to really learn how to write and find myself as a writer. I'm sure anyone who read this in its original format would agree that the writing changes drastically from the prologue to the last chapter. That being said, I _did_ rework the prologue and chapter one, which is why the change from prologue/chapter one to chapter two is so dramatic - the prologue/chapter one is very recent, while chapters two through sixteen are all over two years old. I think the change to prologue/chapter one helps the story flow a little better, and though this work desperately needs a revamp, I have too good of works in the process and too much school work to do it. However, I figured I wasn't really doing you all any good _not _posting these chapters (you all have been _much _too good to me!). I hope I'll make it up to you all by announcing that I have two works that I will be updating once a week, every week. The first is…

**THE BLACKS ARE BACK!**

This is a Harry Potter fic about how the Blacks are…well…back and rarin' for revenge! The official blurb is on my page, and the first chapter of the story'll be up when this is.

The second, for any Star Wars fans that would like to check out…

**A SEMI-UNWILLING ACCOMPLICE IN SORT OF EVERYTHING**

In which Luke Skywalker, an almost-fifteen year old slightly amnesiac galaxy-feared thief, ends up becoming a Jedi. How, he's still not entirely sure.

Thank you all SO MUCH for your reviews!

Please, any comments, suggestions, or questions are welcome.


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